


Hot Buns

by Snowy38



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Carpenter!Louis, Chef!Harry, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Harry in make up, Hate to Love, M/M, Smut, TV Show, Top Louis, past meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy38/pseuds/Snowy38
Summary: “You can call me Harry if you like.”“Is that your name?” Louis checked.Harry smirked.“Actually, it’s Harold but I hate it. I hate everything about my life but what do you care?”Louis licked his lips and caught his knees up under his arms.“I care enough to get you out of the gutter, mate,” he accused softly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All!  
> Mentions must go to CinnamonCurly for the title, and concept :) And to Sam for editing.
> 
> This is the story that I wrote a year ago and my laptop deleted 40 pages of work which I had to re-write. It was a painful and traumatising time for me, as silly as it sounds. I hope you enjoy what I put back together!
> 
> The first chapter is short the rest will be longer.
> 
> Ang

 

“Just let me know, I’ll be on the floor, on the floor...”

 

The voice was kind of deep; a little pitchy but the tone of it had Louis Tomlinson twisting in the cold night air to source the owner. It didn’t sound like your average drunken singer making his way through the streets in search of home.

 

“I’ve gotta get better, gotta get better...”

 

The voice lingered on the last part of the word, a heartfelt husk breaking the words and breaking his own heart by the sounds of things.

 

“Maybe we’ll work it out.”

 

Louis found him on his back; his body was rested on the pavement, legs crossed to tuck into the gutter to avoid the cars streaming past; not stopping to check on his welfare.

 

Louis could guess why. Another drunken waif stumbled in the side of the road, probably to be sick. But something about the haunting song he was singing had Louis moving closer; jogging across the road to protect him from the oncoming traffic.

 

“Meet me in the haaaallway,” The man crooned; smart jeans splashed by a passing car which Louis dashed behind.

 

“How about meeting you on the curb?” He breathed as he settled into a crouch in front of the drunken man’s feet. They were encased in glittering black boots that matched the pitch black of his tight jeans. His face was veiled with long; curly hair through which only his lips were visible- full and pouty with a bow to the upper lip that had Louis’ gaze resting there while the man licked his lips.

 

“I’m alright, thank you,” the drunk managed to slur.

 

Louis scoffed.

 

“No offense, mate, but you’re the last thing from alright.”

 

“You left me in the haaaallway,” the man began singing again, louder this time. “Give me some morphine, take the pain away…”

 

Louis shifted to sit beside him, frowning into his hair-strewn face.

 

“Are you hiding under that bird’s nest for a reason?”

 

The man lifted a hand from his chest where they’d been threaded together; lifting a strand of hair to narrow an eye at him.

 

“Who are you?” He asked, confused.

 

“I’m Louis,” he smirked. “Louis Tomlinson. And I’m trying to get you home safely.”

 

The man snorted, dropping the strand of hair but after a moment of resting his hand back against his chest, he lifted it again to smooth the rest of his mane away from his face. Louis felt something wash over him at the revelation. Curled lashes squeezed together, and high cheekbones fought for attention with a sharp jawline.

 

“Wow,” he couldn’t help his soft, uttered surprise.

 

The man opened one eye again, struggling to bring it to focus on Louis.

 

“You can call me Harry if you like.”

 

“Is that your name?” Louis checked.

 

Harry smirked.

 

“Actually, it’s Harold but I hate it. I hate everything about my life but what do you care?”

 

Louis licked his lips and caught his knees up under his arms.

 

“I care enough to get you out of the gutter, mate,” he accused softly.

 

Harry grunted and rolled to his side to sit up. Louis fidgeted to control himself not to help him. Once Harry was upright; slumped with his hair raining down once more, he huffed.

 

“I gotta get better, I gotta get better, I gotta get better…”

 

Louis bit his lip and sighed through his nose.

 

“Where do you live, Harry?”

 

Harry laid back to dig his wallet out of his pocket, tossing it into Louis’ lap.

 

“My address is in there somewhere.”

 

Louis opened the expensive leather wallet and flicked his eyes over Harry again; inexperienced to designer labels but knowing quality clothes when he saw them. His jacket was leather, and it fell open to reveal Harry’s tummy; decorated with large tattoos of two laurels across each hip and a butterfly across his abs.

 

Louis reached across to sit him back up; taking several attempts to zip the front of his jacket up to prevent him freezing to death.

 

“Do you usually go out without a shirt on?” Louis asked himself under his breath while he went back to searching the wallet for clue of Harry’s origin.  A wad of fifties was tucked in the note partition, enough to pay Louis’ rent for a whole month. _Fuck_. This guy was filthy rich. He could probably afford a private chauffeur.

 

So why was he alone? Why was he out in the cold; getting splashed by cars that could easily run him over should he accidentally roll into the road?

 

He finally found an address; letting out a relieved breath as he stood up, ready to help Harry up so they could flag a taxi.

 

Harry got as far as staggering to his feet before bending over to be sick. All over Louis’ new Vans.

 

Louis rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

 

“Well, I should have seen that one coming,” he mused with an eye roll.

 

“Gotta get better,” Harry was back to singing.

 

“Yeah,” Louis rubbed his back gently. “You do, mate. You really do.”

 

//

 

_Six years later._

 

“Louis! Hey, Lou!”

 

Louis waltzed into the living room of his town flat with a bowl of crisps; stuffing one in his mouth as he lifted a brow at his best friend, Niall Horan.

 

“What?” He asked.

 

“Look at this new cooking show,” Niall flicked his pointer finger towards the screen. “They’re looking for members of the public to go on there and challenge the host to a cook-off. Your chilli would win hands-down,” Niall enthused.

 

Louis snorted.

 

“Not likely. What is he? Michelin trained?”

 

He settled beside Niall and cast his gaze on the screen. A lean, dark haired man dressed in an impeccable suit pressed his hands together with a dimpled smile; his short hair showing off his neck and strangely cute ears.  His fringe was sat volumously atop his head. It toppled a little and Louis watched expressive fingers push it back.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

 

Niall snapped his neck to look at him.

 

“I knew you’d fancy him,” he goaded.

 

Louis’ mouth fell open, eyes widening in shock. _Harry?_

 

Louis had only learned his surname from the credit cards stuffed in his wallet; which he’d placed carefully on the hall side-table when he’d helped Harry up the steps and into his ridiculously massive house. Once Harry was safely collapsed on the nearest sofa with a throw draped over him to keep him warm, he hadn’t stayed long enough to find out much more.

 

And all these years; all this time, Louis had always secretly wondered; _whatever happened to Harry Styles?_

 

“He made a cooking programme,” he muttered to himself, blinking to check he wasn’t imagining that the beautiful brunette on screen was the man he’d found in the gutter singing depressing songs.

 

“You know him, Lou?” Niall frowned confusedly. “Bit of posh totty for ya?”

 

Louis tutted and rolled his eyes; fighting the warmth spreading over his cheeks.

 

“Nothing like that,” he assured his friend. “Just met in passing, if that.”

 

Niall smirked.

 

“So, you should go on the show, then,” he encouraged. “Say hi.”

 

Louis crunched another crisp sullenly.

 

“Pretty sure he doesn’t want to say hi back,” he mused.

 

He’d never told anyone about that night, the night he’d met Harry and helped him home. He’d never told them that after he’d laid him on the couch and before he’d slipped out, Harry’s dexterous fingers had circled his wrist and begged him to stay.

 

He hadn’t shared with anyone that he’d leaned down and kissed the other man’s cheek; fingering his soft, long hair gently away from his face to comfort him while he drifted into sleep.

 

“I’m not your Prince,” Louis had whispered, coaxing his wrist free of Harry’s grip and standing to watch him for a few moments while his lips parted and lashes rested delicately against his cheeks.

 

He’d never confided how much he had wanted to stay; how he’d liked to have tested the theory that a rich guy and a working-class guy could actually work it out. He hadn’t ever told anybody because it hurt too much. He knew the barest of facts about the drunk boy on the curb and reality had a shitty way of sneaking up and knocking him down.

 

“You don’t know that, Lou,” Niall poked him in the side.

 

Louis flicked his eyes away from the screen where Harry was tying a red apron over his suit to make his first meal of the show.

 

He _did_ know that. Because when he’d made it to the doorway, Harry had mumbled out the words which had nailed it home to Louis exactly what the other man thought of him. Words which Louis had taken a long time to erase. Words which felt painful to recall, even now.

 

_Money’s in my wallet, sweetheart. Take whatever I owe you._

 

Louis swallowed hard and flicked the channel. He hadn’t taken any money.

 

“Can we just watch something else?” He asked Niall, belatedly.

 

Niall huffed.

 

“I wanted to see his macaroons,” he objected.

 

Louis ignored him and fastened his gaze to the football game he’d found.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis had no idea why he had an invitation.

 

He had no idea why he had an invitation to attend a preliminary meeting to feature on _Hot Buns_. Because he had _specifically_ told Niall he wanted nothing to do with the cookery programme and Niall _couldn’t_ have entered him secretly after knowing how Louis felt.

 

He-

 

Louis got up off the sofa with the letter in his hand, tempted to rip it to shreds but the anger was burning hotly up his body as he grabbed his jacket and keys and stormed his way to his friend’s flat.

 

 

//

 

“What’s this?” Louis thrust the crumpled letter into Niall’s face as soon as he opened the door. The brunette jumped back a bit, not expecting to be advanced upon, apparently.

 

Niall chewed on whatever he was eating nonchalantly on seeing it was Louis there.

 

“Dunno, Lou,” he shrugged. “You want to come in?”

 

Louis barged by him to turn suddenly in the living room, once again catching Niall off guard.

 

“Whoa!” The Irish man lifted his hands in surrender. “What’s the problem?”

 

“What’s the problem?” Louis squinted. “What’s the-“ He huffed with a non-amused smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about why I got a letter from _Hot Buns_ today would you?”

 

Niall’s lips tugged into a smirk, blue eyes twinkling.

 

“Oh, they got back to you then…”

 

“Niall!” He raged, flinging the letter away. “I’m not going on that shitty show, alright?”

 

Niall pursed his lips.

 

“It’s not shitty,” he began tentatively.

 

 “You had no right to enter me to go on!”

 

“Thought you might want to see Harry and-“

 

“I _don’t_ want to see Harry,” He accused hotly. “Fuck!” he added with a sigh. “I told you I don’t even know him, that it was just a stupid, passing moment that meant _nothing_.”

 

Niall edged around an angry, flailing Louis to plop onto his sofa, picking up the pot-noodle he had evidently been eating before he’d answered the door.

 

“No offense, Lou, but clearly it meant _something_ ,” he observed.

 

Louis glared at him.

 

“Not to _him_ ,” Louis re-iterated. “Which is kind of key, don’t you think?”

 

Niall tilted his head this way and that.

 

“Imagine it, Lou. If you get one over on him with your chilli…”

 

Louis felt something surge in his chest. Some ugly, dark emotion that he’d reigned in all these years. The sweet burn of wanting revenge, somehow. Harry had made him feel like a rent-boy that night after Louis had gone out of his way to be kind and a part of him almost _did_ want to level it up and sock it to him. Harry certainly wouldn’t be expecting to see Louis again, let alone be challenged in his craft. Louis looked at Niall differently for a moment.

 

“You might be onto something,” he considered with a shaky voice.

 

Niall grinned.

 

“Yep. Show him who’s boss, Tommo,” he goaded.

 

Louis nodded, licking his lips, fingering away his fringe which had flown loose in his rage.

 

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” he swallowed. “Might actually show him a thing or two.”

 

Niall patted the seat beside him, lifting his leg to retrieve the screwed-up letter.

 

“Let’s make a plan,” he said as Louis settled himself into the seat.

 

//

 

“He’s just ridiculously pompous,” Louis rolled his eyes at his TV screen where Harry walked daintily about his kitchen; hips exaggerated and fingers starred with hands afloat by his side as he batted his lashes. Lashes which Louis was certain bore the signs of embellishment. So he wore make-up now? Maybe Mummy and Daddy had finally disowned him and he felt free to express himself?

 

Louis tutted as Harry unbuttoned his jacket and slid a hand over his own chest in audacious flirting with his well-known male guest.

 

Niall turned the volume up.

 

“So…Jack,” Harry purred, flingers curling into his own inner thigh. “Tell me, are you taken?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

Jack laughed, good-natured.

 

“I am, I’m afraid,” he shrugged. “My beautiful wife, Evelyn is watching at home.”

 

“Evelyn,” Harry looked directly into the camera. “Sweetie, your husband is hot,” Harry bit into his lower lip as he narrowed his eyes a bit, seductively. “Let me know if you ever get bored of him?”

 

Louis felt his cheeks burn as he tried to flick his eyes away from Harry’s intense green gaze; lips pursing in silent disgust at the insinuation Harry was making.

 

The audience laughed at his joke, though. In fact they ate up everything that fell from his full, pink-tinted lips.

 

“Egotistical moron,” Louis muttered under his breath.

 

“Lou, anyone would think you were jealous,” Niall piped up beside him.

 

“Fuck, no,” Louis argued a little too vehemently. “Why would I want to date a guy like that?” He gestured to the screen where Harry was now smiling and waving with his outrageous dimples. “Disgusting.”

 

“Oh yeah, he’s awful,” Niall teased with a snicker. “Rich, tall, works out by the look of things and hella handsome…can’t imagine what you’d see in that…”

 

“What about being _nice_?” Louis hissed, twisting to get up to go to the kitchen. “Kind of essential.”

 

Niall hummed, watching the TV screen for a bit longer until the commercial break cut in.

 

“I reckon he is nice,” he surmised. “Off-camera.”

 

Louis snorted and helped himself to a beer.

 

“Doesn’t exactly count does it?” He commented before joining Niall back on the sofa.

 

//

 

When he’d been messing about with Niall, the idea had seemed to hold weight. It had been a valid; if slightly warped reason to purge the anger he still carried for Harry at his dismissal of him the night he’d helped him home.

 

Being led through the studio corridors towards the stage, Louis began to regret his flippancy. He actually had to _do_ this. Had to cook his food, had to face the cameras and had to wow an audience enough to vote for him over the pompous ballerina in order to exact his revenge.

 

Harry wasn’t on set, yet. Darcy (The show runner) had told him when he’d met her at the front desk and he had the whole morning to do a practice run of his chilli so that when they came to film it later he’d be smooth. He smirked to himself. He didn’t imagine he’d be smooth once the heat of the studio lights were beaming on him but he’d worry about that later.

 

He felt inadequate in his jeans and vans and t-shirt; most of the crew and show staff were floating about in designer gear by the look of things. Harry seemed to like his entire staff to dress exactly how he did- impeccably.

 

Louis rolled his eyes to himself as he huffed out a nervous breath; ingredients for his food laid in front of him. He tentatively lit up the burner and found a large pan to heat on it, carefully swooping oil into the bottom.

 

He was just frying off the meat when he heard a crash backstage; an indecipherable voice yelling. He sharpened his hearing and wandered toward the back of the stage to sneak a look down the corridor. Assistants were rushing about; Darcy abandoning him in favour of the furore in the dressing room.

 

“Where’s the Gucci suit?” The voice demanded now that Louis edged closer, he could make out the words. “The black sparkly one?”

 

“S-sir,” a nervous voice quivered under the intimidation, making Louis smirk. If Harry ever spoke to him like that, he wouldn’t be a quivering, nervous wreck that was for certain. “Y-You picked the foil print multi-coloured one earlier.”

 

“You know I like to change my mind, _Stephen_ ,” the deep voice drawled derisively. “Why are you still here, anyway, I thought I asked for you to be sacked?”

 

“Oi!” an immediate yell brought Louis’ attention to the front of the stage where the floor manager was dashing forth towards his frying pan; dark smoke billowing from the oil which he’d left on a high heat while he eavesdropped.

 

“Shit!” Louis hissed, starting into a run; fingers clasping around the pan handle the second before it burst into flames. “Bollocks!” He tossed the pan away as the handle burned his fingers; the flaming contents landing on the studio floor where the manager ran to fetch the extinguisher; spraying the flames with the white powder while Louis stood motionless; powdered flame retardant coating the toes of his shoes.

 

He heard footsteps patter onto the stage, attention drawn to the steaming mass now under control. His back straightened as the sound of boots clipping lino headed up the corridor and onto the stage.

 

“And what the _fuck_ is this?” Came Harry’s demanding, haughty tones.

 

Louis pursed his lips and twisted; making sure that Harry got to see him as he lifted his chin.

 

“Your worst nightmare,” he smiled sweetly.

 

//

 

Harry paused long enough for his eyes to flare- for his nostrils to flare, too- before he schooled his face and blinked dismissively.

 

“Who let him in?” He asked Darcy.

 

Darcy looked between them.

 

“Louis is this week’s contestant for the cook-off segment,” she soothed the taller man.

 

Harry looked mildly dishevelled with his usually perfectly-coiffed hair a little array- soft and unstyled- and his usual suit giving way to smart jeans and boots with a jumper. His brows were furrowed, his jaw was set stiffly in indignation and Louis knew the moment his brow arched that he’d be tossed out.

 

“Well he can’t do it,” Harry told Darcy. “Get someone else.”

 

Darcy eyed Louis curiously.

 

“Is there some kind of problem, Sir?” She asked anyway.

 

Harry opened his mouth and Louis turned towards him, folding his arms in silent challenge. Harry snapped his mouth shut; eyes glancing over him in what appeared to be another dismissive flash. Louis noticed the way his eyes lingered on the powdered toes of his sneakers.

 

“He just set fire to the set, Darcy,” Harry sniffed. “Do you really think he can out-cook me?”

 

“It was an accident,” Louis dropped his arms to cock his hip slightly, resting his hand against his waist coquettishly, almost mocking Harry in his similar pose. Harry resettled himself to change his stance.

 

“Louis, come and meet the host of the show,” Darcy waved him over.

 

Louis slowly walked the distance between them, foot slipping on some oil which was now busily being cleaned up. He stopped about a foot in front of the man he kind of knew-but not really.

 

“Hi, Harry,” he smiled audaciously; far too confident and familiar for strangers.

 

“Oh, give me a moment,” Darcy was drawn away to see to an issue with a flickering light.

 

Louis stared at Harry while Harry’s gaze flicked around the empty audience.

 

“Am I meant to know you?” Harry asked, not looking at him.

 

Louis huffed out a breath.

 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” He accused.

 

Harry’s gaze was drawn to him then, burrowing into Louis’ blue eyes. It took a beat too long for him to drop his gaze, lips curling up in one corner in an arrogant smirk.

 

“I’ve had a few one-nighters,” he drawled. “I can't remember all the faces and names, sweetheart.”

 

Louis’ lashes flickered in bitter reminder of Harry’s use of that nick-name; something he evidently reserved for his paid sexual partners.

 

“You can’t seem to remember anything,” Louis mused. “Even the genuine people who try to help you.”

 

With that he shook his head and turned to head back to his cooking station to check on the status of his practice-run.

 

“Darcy, get him dressed for the show, for God’s sake,” Harry’s voice hit him square in the back; straightening his spine. “He looks like he’s homeless in that get up,” Harry muttered before the clipping of his boots echoed away down the corridor.

 

//

 

Homeless?

 

Harry thought he looked _homeless_?

 

It was an insult to homeless people. Louis had a home. A nice apartment big enough for him and a few friends when they wanted to stop by. Just because Harry probably owned his own mansion by now; and wore clothes that cost more than Louis’ life savings didn’t mean he had the right to be rude.

 

Louis’ heart clenched. Harry _was_ rude. He hadn’t even thanked him for helping him that night; other than offering him money which was as insulting as the insinuation that his clothes weren’t good enough.

 

He buttoned up the pale blue shirt the stylist, Lynne had provided him with; glancing down to the fitted grey slacks and wondering how to make it work. He tucked the shirt in and wandered to the rack of accessories, fingering a few ties and by-passing them to see what else they had. A set of burgundy braces took his fancy and he unclipped them from the hanger to put them on; matching a bow-tie to the colour to wear, too.

 

“No jacket,” he told Lynne as she held it up for him to put on. “But can you tie this for me?” He asked of the bow-tie.

 

The older lady smiled and nodded; her dark bob swinging around her face gently.

 

“Harry used to wear these but he’s moved onto more fluid fabrics and pussy-bows now,” she offered.

 

“Is he always so pompous?” Louis asked plainly, causing Lynne to laugh.

 

She straightened his bow; flicking her eyes to meet his.

 

“I worked with him before the show,” she shared. “Dressed him for all the high-society parties and what not…”

 

“And?” Louis pushed. “Is he always so pompous?”

 

A flurry of activity in the hallway sounded through the open door, bringing Louis’ gaze there. Harry swept into the open doorway and pressed a hand to the jamb. His eyes met Louis’ first before dipping to survey him, drawing slowly up him in a way that made his skin crawl.

 

 _Disgusting_. Harry was eyeing him up. After being such an asshole, too.

 

Louis lifted his chin.

 

“Oh, there you are. I was just asking Lynne if you’re always pompous or if today was a special day?”

 

Harry’s jaw clenched but his smooth, fake smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

 

“Sweetheart,” he soothed in a honeyed husk. “You’re not still angry about earlier are you?”

 

Louis was only angry himself for allowing the whole shambolic scenario to happen. He should never have listened to Niall.

 

“You’re always pompous then,” Louis answered his own question, flicking his gaze back to his reflection in the mirror. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

 

Harry stepped into the room, surprising Louis who expected him to sweep away with a flourish. Louis peeked at him suspiciously, making out the red tint on his lips and the grey shadow brushed across his eye- lids as he blinked, arm arching over the top of the mirror and hip hitching against it as his sequinned jacket fell open to reveal a plain black shirt.

 

His lips pursed almost seductively.

 

“If I'd had you in my bed, I would remember,” he assured silkily. “So where is it we have met?”

 

Louis laughed, loud and stark and most definitely not amused. He turned away from the mirror to reach for his watch and bracelet; the one his Mum bought him that he always wore for luck.

 

“Never mind, Princess,” Louis responded. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

Harry pursed his lips curiously as Louis walked out of the room.

 

//

 

“He likes to be called H,” Darcy was telling Louis as he fought his nerves.

 

The audience were being warmed up and he’d film a short interview section with Harry before they’d move to the kitchen.

 

“He likes to be called what?” Louis derided, narrowing his eyes at her.

 

“H,” she repeated. “If you’ve seen the show you’ll notice that on camera, everyone refers to him as H…”

 

Louis furrowed his brows. Yes, he remembered it now. He had thought it was ridiculous, but hey. Who was he to go against the grain? He smirked to himself, secretly.

 

“You laugh at his jokes and if he flirts then you can respond…just remember this gets shown before watershed,” she added softly.

 

As if Louis had anything to say to Harry which needed censoring. Apart from what a jumped-up dick he’d become. The well-moneyed man laying on the roadside may have been dressed in expensive clothes with money pouring from his wallet; but he hadn’t been this level of unreal. _This_ Harry didn’t even seem to recognise reality, let alone _live_ in it. And even though Louis hadn’t received gratitude for his kindness; there was something still haunting him about the vulnerable words Harry had been singing in his drunken state. There was still something lingering; achingly, in Louis’ chest about why he’d gotten so drunk in the first place.

 

“I’ll do my best,” he promised Darcy as she fixed him with an expectant gaze.

 

“Good,” she smiled, waiting for Harry to introduce Louis to the stage before gently shunting him down the hallway towards the threshold where spotlights blinded him momentarily.

 

He smiled wanly and waved, bobbing on his feet to blow a few kisses. The audience seemed to like that; setting off into loud applause and cheers.

 

“Hi, everyone,” he waved as he walked towards the sofa where Harry gestured him to sit.

 

Louis noted Harry didn’t stand to receive him. He pursed his lips and arched a brow. Oh, it was _so_ on.

 

“So, Louis,” Harry began in his slow diction. “Where are you from?”

 

Louis looked out at the audience, trying to focus on a few faces among the camera lights.

 

“Doncaster,” he shared. “Anyone else?”

 

A few cheers went out.

 

“Ah, my brethren,” Louis winked, holding a hand up in a still wave. “Good to have you. Make sure you vote for me,” he added cheekily.

 

“All votes will be cast in a good and fair manner,” Harry drawled. “Based on who’s food tastes the best,” he added.

 

“Mine, then,” Louis sassed.

 

Harry lifted a brow and turned to his audience with a wide smile, tapping his cards against his knee before lifting his heavily-ringed fingers to brush into his fringe. Louis didn’t remember the rings being there the first time they met, but they suited him, somehow.

 

“Now Louis here had a little accident in the kitchen at this morning’s run-through,” he divulged. “He probably didn’t want you know that, but let me just say, he’s _amazing_ at flambé….”

 

The audience laughed while Louis crossed his ankles and swung his feet a bit; rubbing his hands together.

 

“Not sure the studio’s fire officer is looking forward to the cook-off,” Harry added with a dimpled grin.

 

Louis held out his hands and stood up to bow to the raucous applause.

 

“Your everyday cook, ladies and gentleman,” he smiled. “Not all of us have Michelin stars to our name…”

 

Harry’s gaze flittered over him, lips pursing as he tapped his cards again against his thigh.

 

“And what are you making for our lovely audience today, Louis?” Harry soothed.

 

“Chilli con carne,” Louis nodded once, proudly. “You?” He batted back.

 

Harry sat a little straighter, smirking.

 

“I’m making 40 Day Old Fillet of Ruby Red Beef with Smoked Bone Marrow and Garlic & Spinach,” Harry announced with a flick of his head; fluttering his fingers delicately in the air.

 

Louis glanced at the audience.

 

“Does anyone even know what that means?” He asked.

 

“No!” the crowd called back, causing Louis to sit back in his seat with a satisfied little smile.

 

Harry blinked at him coolly.

 

“Let your utensils do the talking, Tomlinson,” Harry got up. “Time to cook!”

 

Louis waited until the floor manager called for them to ‘Cut’ before rolling his eyes. Darcy led him toward the dressing room.

 

“We’ll just have a quick freshen up and then we’ll go straight to the cooking part. Try not to set anything on fire, please,” she begged.

 

Louis only smiled at her sweetly.

 

//

 

His fringe was getting in his eyes a bit; long and softly styled over his forehead but under the lights and the heat of the cooker; he was sweating enough for it to wilt. He flicked it away as he kneaded his hand-made bread; wanting to get that into the self-proving oven before he started on his meat.

 

Harry was show-boating on his side of the studio, throwing out sweets to the audience and flamboyantly spinning around his work-space.

 

“How’s Tiny over here getting on?” He asked as he strode into Louis’ kitchen, hand on hip.

 

Louis pasted on a grim smile.

 

“I’m just fine thank you, Princess, how’s your side of the table?”

 

“Well, I’m a little ahead of time so I thought I’d come and help out,” Harry beamed. “Put me to work.”

 

“Well, _Harold_ ,” Louis enunciated his name with a sweet smile. “How about you chop some onions for me? Or is that too mundane for a chef of your calibre?”

 

Harry’s smile only faltered briefly, his green eyes focusing more intently on Louis’ face. It might be the first time he’d actually looked at Louis with the intention of _seeing_ him; instead of looking _through_ him. Nobody else might have noticed the teeny furrow above Harry’s brow before he looked up, chin lifting.

 

“Marcus, can you cut that, later?” He checked and the floor manager gave a thumbs up.

 

Harry edged closer to Louis; red apron brushing his arm enough to make his hairs stand on end.

 

“Nobody calls me that,” Harry’s voice was low and made Louis’ heart thrash in something that felt a lot like excitement.

 

“No?” Louis looked up at him blankly. “Why not? Cute nickname,” he teased.

 

Harry stared at the side of his face while Louis moved to place his bread-dough in the bread oven and then started work on his peppers.

 

“Going to help me then, Princess?” Louis prompted.

 

Harry ran his tongue over the front of his teeth and twisted to peel the onion on the board on the counter.

 

“Are all your family small, Louis?” Harry asked as he methodically sliced the onion into tiny, even pieces while Louis hacked at his peppers roughly.

 

He choked out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked across the counter towards the chef guesting him.

 

“I’m not small,” he promised confidently, earning a few wolf-whistles from the audience.

 

Louis saluted them with a grin.

 

“I meant your height,” Harry clarified. “Kind of short for a guy, no?”

 

“I can handle myself,” Louis assured with a twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t worry Princess, you’ll be safe with me,” he added.

 

Harry slid him a cool glance, red lips pursing as he dumped his chopped onion into a heated pan. When Louis moved to stir it; Harry brushed him away gently with his arm.

 

“Think you better let me man the hot pan,” Harry mused.

 

“Don’t you want to concentrate on your own hoity-toity menu?” Louis quipped.

 

“I like to help my guests,” Harry insisted. “I also like to prevent fire hazards…”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and pulled the back of Harry’s apron strings to unravel them; causing him to cry out in indignant surprise.

 

“Get that jacket off,” Louis suggested. “Loosen up a little.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to retort but the crowd started up a loud and demanding chant of;

 

“Jacket-off, jacket-off,” and Harry stared at them with flared nostrils before glancing back at Louis.

 

Louis edged into position in front of his pan, turning his face to smile audaciously at Harry; tilting his face away from the cameras to brush his lips against his ear.

 

“Better get naked,” Louis murmured.

 

Harry, for the first time since they’d met, actually looked overwhelmed. He licked his lips and stepped away with a swallow; eyes lingering on Louis until he twisted to storm back to his own kitchen; visibly shaken by the encounter. Louis smiled to himself as he stirred his pan. Maybe Harry remembered him now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting. I will post in batches as my laptop is awful :(

Harry slipped his jacket off for the first time in two months of working on his show.

 

The audience roared their approval and his eyes went to Louis as Louis tasted his chilli. Louis only gave him an unbothered look in return.

 

“Okay, nearly time to plate up,” Harry regained control of the audience; picking up his cue cards. “We’ll just do the Hot Five with our guest cook before we dish up,” Harry narrated.

 

“Go gently on me,” Louis pleaded; checking his bread.

 

“This is a sudden-fire game,” Harry explained. “In case you haven’t seen the show before…”

 

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Louis assured.

 

“I meant the viewers at home,” Harry murmured, going back to his cards. “Ok, here we go...Steak or burger?”

 

“Burger,” Louis looked up to wink at the crowd, earning a cheer.

 

“Might have guessed,” Harry mused. “Cake or cookie?”

 

“Cake,” Louis turned to meet his gaze. “Nice to lick off.”

 

The audience screamed in response to that, earning a disapproving look from Harry.

 

“I’ll have to ask that again. This time without the innuendo, please,” he added.

 

Louis shrugged.

 

“Cake or cookie?” Harry repeated.

 

“Cake,” Louis answered again with a twinkle, licking his lips in place of making a suggestive remark.

 

Harry nodded; fingers pushing into his fringe.

 

“Coke or lemonade?”

 

“Lemonade,” Louis voted. “You?”

 

Harry arched a brow.

 

“Coke,” he selected.

 

“Naturally,” Louis smiled.

 

“Home-cooked roast or five-star menu,” Harry posed next.

 

“Home roast,” Louis voted. “Can’t beat my Mum’s dinner,” he added. “Hi, Mum,” he waved at the camera.

 

“Okay, last question,” Harry tossed his cards away to check on his food. “I want you to think about this one,” he added.

 

Louis glanced at the audience with a grin.

 

“Hot or cold?” Harry asked as he was bent over looking into his oven at his steak.

 

Louis’ eyes drifted over his behind; showcased beautifully in his tight suit; evidencing the effort he put into his work out. No wonder the show was called _Hot Buns_.  Harrys buns were very definitely _hot_. Louis swallowed down the urge to walk over there and grasp one.

 

“Hot,” he selected. “How about you, Princess?” Louis asked in return. “Do you like it hot?”

 

Harry shut his oven and drew himself to his full height, lids dropping to land halfway over his eyes. He placed his fork against his tongue and closed his lips around it to suck at the prongs suggestively, brow arching to Louis’ question.

 

“Hot, sweetheart,” he promised raspily. “We both like it hot.”

 

Louis gulped, realising he’d just climbed into the spider’s web to become Harry’s prey.

 

//

 

Ten members of the audience were selected at random to taste the food that was made. They were brought out to be fed by each chef respectively.

 

Harry had a field day feeding his meal to the testers; tongue lathing over his lower lip as he flicked his alighted eyes to the audience with a flirty smile.

 

“Take it slowly on your tongue,” he told one man. “Easy now, don’t be greedy…”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and tried to fix his fringe; tugging his tie open to unbutton his shirt. He was sure he had sweat patches underneath his arms and the way that sweat was trickling down his spine; probably the back of his shirt was wet too.

 

He shivered; the studio fans kicking in to extract the food smells and lowering the temperature.

 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Harry’s voice murmured against his ear before he brushed against him; jacket held up in his artful fingers. “Why don’t you slip on my jacket if you’re cold?”

 

Louis eyed him distrustfully.

 

“It's your turn to feed the guests,” Harry added.

 

Louis stuck his arms into the too-large, glittering jacket and huffed into his fringe. He carried his chilli to the table and smeared it onto the bread, carefully feeding it to the ten members of the audience.

 

He turned back to the stage while they deliberated, Harry pointing him to his spot. Louis stood beside him. Harry’s foot was tucked behind his ankle, hip cocked slightly and one hand placed against his waist in a feminine flair while Louis stood evenly on both feet; hands clasped behind his back. He looked up into the rafters and licked his lips nervously.

 

“Alright, are we ready?” Harry looked over to the testers. “Plate one,” he called and they each held up a scorecard from 1 to 10.

 

Louis flicked his eyes over each one, mentally adding it up.

 

“Eighty-one,” Harry smirked, lifting a brow towards Louis. “Good luck, Louis.”

 

The testers changed their cards, Louis squeezing his eyes shut. As long as he didn’t score below fifty, he could still walk out of this without being embarrassed.

 

“Nine-“ Harry’s voice caught and Louis snapped his eyes open. “Ninety?” Harry checked of the scores and the testers all nodded.

 

Louis heard the audience break into deafening applause, jumping to their feet before he had a chance to realise he’d won the cook-off; his chilli beating Harry’s pretentious steak by nine points.

 

His mouth fell open and he stared into the blinding lights as he tried to take it in.

 

“Well done, Louis!” Harry’s voice came over his microphone but his body was no longer beside him.

 

Louis looked around to find Harry collecting another plate of each of their creations.

 

“Shall we try each other’s?” He asked as Louis tried to catch his breath.

 

Louis wrapped the edges of the jacket around himself and grasped the fork Harry placed into his fingers. He tried to catch Harry’s gaze but he was bending to fork some of Louis’ chilli into his mouth; his tongue stretching out first to catch the meat before he chewed; ripping off a chunk of bread with his perfect teeth after.

 

“This is actually very good, ladies and gentleman,” Harry told his audience. “I might even forgive you for voting against me,” he teased.

 

Louis tried the steak and felt it melt on his tongue; his chilli absolutely no match to the quality of the ingredients and flavouring Harry had used. He looked at Harry again; this time earning his gaze.

 

“Good job,” Harry told him softly as their eyes met; the studio a whirlwind of clapping and cheering around them as the show wrapped up.

 

Louis only stared at him, speechless while Harry clapped his hands to film his ending.

 

“Did everyone have a good time tonight?” He called.

 

“Yes!”

 

“I said…did everyone have a good time tonight?” He repeated, lifting his hands to hype up the crowd.

 

It came back louder this time.

 

“Right, well on next week’s show we have Little Mix on the sofa and another lovely regular Joe taking me on in the cook-off,” Harry smiled into the camera with a cute wave. “I’ll see you all then, I hope…”

 

Once the applause had died down, Louis jolted as Darcy grasped his arm.

 

“They’re filming the celebrity interview next,” she told him as his eyes went around the stage to look for Harry. He must be getting his touch-up, he mused. “Come on, you can watch back-stage,” she suggested as she turned him towards the archway that led on and off stage.

 

His eyes caught the sparkled movement of black sequinned fabric and he twisted his neck to follow it; sourcing Harry down in the pit of the crowd; working along the lines of the audience to greet the people who wanted to meet him.

 

Louis frowned; heart thudding in his throat at the suggestion that Harry might not be _completely_ selfish. That he might give a shit about someone other than himself after all. His stomach sank into his toes in the same swooping moment. Maybe it was just _Louis_ he reacted that way to; deigned and righteous. Maybe he really _shouldn’t_ have come, after all.

 

//

 

 

“Hey, you got a letter,” Niall closed the front door and yanked at the envelope which had been wedged in the letter-box for two days. When he tugged at it; it ripped the corner off. “Whoops.”

 

“That’s why I left it there,” Louis snorted. “Stupid letter box eats my mail…”

 

Niall didn’t hesitate to rip open the envelope; following Louis inside. He sat at the kitchen table while Louis put the kettle on. He unfolded the page.

 

“It’s from _Hot Buns_!” Niall exclaimed.

 

Louis smirked. Probably a thank-you note. Since Harry himself hadn’t bothered to come and see him off officially when Louis had spent an hour hugging the crew goodbye. Apparently Harry had been whisked away right after his celebrity interview; not even a passing farewell to Louis before he vanished.

 

It shouldn’t hurt. Louis had gone there with the sole intention of getting to him and he had succeeded in some small way. He hated that it still smarted that Harry had disregarded him again; as easily as he had before. He sighed; knowing that one day he might comes to terms with the fact that someone he hated also drove him crazy with desire.

 

His dreams since their re-meet had been the hottest he’d ever had. Harry might not have long hair anymore but he had a long body and a beautiful one at that and he had haunting green eyes. He had plush lips. He had-

 

“What does it say?” He asked his friend as he poured hot water into his teapot; already having flicked two teabags into it.

 

“It says- _We would like to extend our heart-felt thanks to you for attending the studio to participate in the weekly cook-off with our host, H_.”

 

Louis snorted.

 

“I think they mean Harry,” Niall added unnecessarily .

 

Louis rolled his eyes. “He’s such a dick.”

 

“ _Although your expectation for the application was for a one-show feature, having reviewed the audience response to your broadcast, we are delighted to announce that we are extending our invitation to a further show; or shows, in which we would like for you to prepare further menu samples_.” Niall carried on his narrative.

 

“What?” Louis squinted at him.

 

“ _We would kindly ask you to contact us at your earliest convenience in order to discuss this further; along with any queries or concerns you may have_ …”

 

“Concerns!” Louis huffed, throwing his fridge door open and unsettling the bottles of sauces collected there. He quickly recued them from falling. “I’ve got a shit-load of concerns, alright!”

 

“Oh my god!” Niall laughed. “They love you! The public fucking love you, Tommo!”

 

Louis twisted and shook his head, a stupid smile on his face.

 

“Shut up. They’re probably just short of applicants…”

 

“Louis, did you actually watch the broadcast?” Niall checked.

 

Louis swallowed.

 

“No,” he admitted. He hadn’t wanted to see the way Harry glared at him tempestuously or the way he belittled Louis in front of the audience. The way they would edit it to put Harry in the golden light would probably motivate him to commit murder.

 

Niall lifted his brows and chucked out a breathy laugh.

 

“The sexual tension, Lou!” Niall yelled, making him jump. “Fucking hell. I bet they had a thousand more viewers than normal the way you two went at it.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Louis mumbled, regret tingling through him in memory of his tart replies and obvious flirting.

 

“We both like it hot?” Niall threw back at him.

 

Louis felt the flush of those words rush over him; his groin definitely more interested than it had any right to be.

 

“I didn’t-“

 

“Nice to lick it off, huh, Lou,” Niall twinkled.

 

Louis’ head snapped up, tea spilling from where he’d been pouring it.

 

“They left that in?” He gasped.

 

Niall cackled.

 

“Fuck, of course they did!” He grinned. “And how you said you weren’t small and-“

 

“Okay, I don’t need to know anything else,” Louis slid his mug in front of him; biting his lip.

 

Niall considered him.

 

“Do ya like him?”

 

Louis looked into his friend’s comforting blue eyes.

 

“No,” he lied.

 

Niall’s face softened.

 

“You do. Why won't you admit it?”

 

“Because he’s a dick,” Louis defended.

 

“But you want his dick,” Niall smirked.

 

Louis raised a brow.

 

“Okay, you want your dick _in_ him, whatever,” Niall huffed.

 

“I’m not going back,” he argued.

 

Niall only smiled wider.

 

“We’ll think of a plan…”

 

“That didn’t work out so well last time, Irish,” Louis complained.

 

“It fecking well did,” Niall countered, lifting the letter. “It got you invited back.”

 

//

 

It was the song.

 

Louis could hear thin threads of it playing; the echoey sound crawling down the hallway; ironic as he walked the hallway that the singer spoke of. It was Harry’s song and it had been six years but Louis could still hear the lyrics in his soft and broken voice.

 

He could still recall the drunken haze of his green eyes and the languidness of his body.

 

“ _Just let me know, I’ll be on the floor, on the floor_ …”

 

Louis froze, Harry’s voice calling out above the record; heartfelt and earnest.

 

“ _Maybe we’ll work it out. Gotta get better, gotta get better_ …”

 

Louis twisted to walk away; back to his own dressing room. He’d only ventured down the hall to see if he could try and call some kind of truce with Harry before they faced each other again in front of a team of people. He truly hadn’t meant for things to go this far. He hadn’t intended to become a thorn in Harry’s side.

 

“Hey, Tiny.” The voice was deep and sounded tired; a little slurred if Louis was hearing right.

 

He turned. Harry was in the hallway. His hair was a soft, silky mess laid over his forehead in a fringe and he was wearing his tight jeans with an obnoxious jumper in about twenty colours. Louis didn’t know why but his tummy tugged a bit at the sight.

 

_Hold him._

He told his brain to shut up.

 

“Hey, Princess,” Louis replied, soft enough not to be taken as a barb.

 

“Ready for round two?” Harry wandered closer, bare feet slient on the cold lino-covered floor.

 

Louis edged closer, too.

 

“No,” he replied honestly, lips twisting.

 

“They liked you,” he bolstered.

 

“Do you remember me yet?” Louis asked back.

 

Harry’s lashes flickered.

 

“I told you, I-“

 

“Sleep around,” Louis nodded. “Only you didn’t sleep with me. You were pretty wasted, though…”

 

Harry swallowed, chin lifting as he combed his fingers through his fringe. It’s fell back into place slowly; shiny and silky.

 

“Well you can put me in my place again now, can't you?” He challenged.

 

And Louis would love to; ached to really. Only _this_ Harry had him wondering if he’d imagined all the drama that had come with him before.

 

“What are you making?” Harry asked when Louis stayed quiet.

 

Louis licked his lips.

 

“As if I’d give away my secrets…”

 

Harry smirked then; lips tugging up in one corner.

 

“Alright, Tomlinson, game on,” he murmured.

 

Louis almost missed the sickly _sweetheart_ he might have used were they going at it.

 

“See you out there,” Harry added quietly when Louis turned away.

 

//

 

“Alright, good evening everyone!” Harry gestured for his audience to quieten their clapping. “Shh…shh…” He grinned.

 

Louis waited backstage, watching on the monitor with Darcy.

 

“Tonight we’re doing something a little special, a little different,” his dimples popped as he clasped his hands together; the burgundy suit with lace embroidered on the sleeves and trouser-cuffs and silver glittered boots a million miles from his jeans and jumper and bare feet.

 

“Because we had such a _tremendous_ response to a certain cook-off guest, we’ve decided to invite him back for another shot at beating me,” Harry told his crowd; nodding at their uproar of noise. “That’s right… _Louis Tomlinson_ is back in the studio to finish us all off with his arsonist urges,” he quipped.

 

Louis fidgeted, hands straightening his clothes needlessly. He’d made himself a bed to lay in by choosing his own outfit the last time. Darcy had told him people would expect a similar vibe. He’d selected another pair of tight-fitted trousers in black with a simple white shirt and bright red braces to add some colour. He’d also asked Lynne to quiff his hair so it stayed out of his face.

 

“Tonight, we’re going to be making desserts,” Harry divulged to the audience. “If you bring him back after this, then I’m quitting,” he joked. “So there’s that to look forward to,” he added after the laughter. “And of course my chat-on-the-couch with none other than my good friend James Corden from The Late Late Show,” Harry lifted his arms to instigate a cheer. “And the usual babble from me in between,” he added with a little shrug of his shoulder.

 

Louis tried not to notice the way his cropped jacket and high-waisted pants flattered his thick thighs and pronounced behind; accentuating his waist. Harry had always been lean but it was evident now how hard he worked out.

 

“Alright,” Harry clapped his hands together. “Let’s bring Mr. Tomlinson out and have a quick catch up before we start cooking,” he called.

 

Louis let Darcy lead him into the tunnel towards the crest of the stage; sucking in a fortifying breath before he stepped out into the blinding light. He grinned and waved like last time; doing a little dance to the music playing- his requested U2 song.

 

When the lights didn’t dim he squinted; looking down for the edge of the step to join Harry. He startled when Harry’s hand curled around his elbow.

 

“This way, Louis,” he led smoothly, Louis following him and Harry only letting go once he was seated.

 

Harry leaned forward in his seat, his black shirt frilled in the neckline and gaping open to reveal his tattooed chest.

 

“So, Tiny,” Harry greeted him with a familiar smirk. “What have you been up to since we last saw you? Other than growing, of course…” Harry winked at the audience.

 

Louis heard one person boo and turned to give them a thumbs up.

 

“Cheers, love,” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, turning to face Harry. He wanted to try calling him Harold again, but something in him made him decide against it. “Well, Princess,” he began instead. “I’ve been busy with my day job, being a regular Joe,” he added pointedly.

 

“And what’s your day job?” Harry asked.

 

Louis licked his lips and looked at him, palms sliding together. It was a question Harry hadn’t cared to ask him on a personal level and he didn’t know whether he should give a flippant reply or not.

 

“I work with wood,” Louis shared, honestly. “I carve furniture, mostly.”

 

Harry blinked, twisting one of the rings on his finger.

 

“Carpentry?” He prompted. “Is that your own business?”

 

“You can find me online,” Louis smiled at the audience, eager to escape Harry’s enrapturing gaze.

 

“And what have you got in mind to wow the audience tonight?” Harry asked next.

 

“I like the classics myself,” Louis shared. “I’m doing chocolate fudge cake.”

 

“Cake?” Harry’s voice seemed to get stuck in his throat.

 

“I like to lick it off, remember?” Louis smiled.

 

Harry sat up a bit straighter, fingertips curling against the lace of his jacket sleeve.

 

“I remember,” he hummed. “The question on the viewer’s lips is; _whom_ do you like to lick it off?”

 

Louis laughed graciously at the question.

 

“If you’re after my celebrity crush then I’d say Chris Hemsworth,” Louis smirked. “Muscular and blonde. My favourite.”

 

Harry pursed his lips and glanced at the applauding audience.

 

“Seems to be a popular choice,” Harry mused.

 

“Who’s yours?” Louis asked back, earning a few whoops and hollers.

 

Louis lifted his brow. Harry could really sock it to him if he wanted, right now. He’d picked a guy as far opposite from Harry that he could think of deliberately to rile him, only Harry seemed to be in a different mood tonight; taking it in his stride.

 

“I quite like Frankie Sandford,” Harry smiled serenely.

 

Louis snapped his gaze to Harry’s face, silently suspicious that Niall had betrayed him. His best friend had teased him endlessly when _The_ _Saturdays_ came onto the scene since Louis looked uncannily like the female singer with his fringe swooped down. Harry only looked back and him with a bland smile; something which intrigued Louis further.

 

Was he doing this deliberately to get attention? Niall had mentioned that their sparring had formed a big part of the show which aired and Louis hadn’t clicked that maybe, just maybe Harry wasn’t _actually_ flirting with him but he was just using him to bump up his view count.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Louis felt his tummy drop; heart pattering out of beat in his chest. This was karma. He should never have come here, he should never have decided that revenge was a good idea; that anything motivated by anger would be rewarded in a positive way.

 

“Louis?”

 

Louis’ tummy lurched and he squeezed his eyes shut in trying not to retch; realisation flooding him that no good could possibly come out of any of this. Niall’s hopelessly romantic idea of the two of them making it up was dead in the water before it even began to swim.

 

“Lou, are you alright?”

 

The tightness of Harry’s fingers on his elbow sobered him.

 

“I feel sick,” Louis whispered.

 

“Darcy! We need some water!” Harry commanded, standing up and bracing Louis’ back with his arm. “Come on, let’s get you backstage,” he murmured.

 

“You didn’t say please,” Louis accused as he let Harry guide him into the cool corridor away from the clamouring lights.

 

“Thank you, Darce,” Harry took the bottle from his assistant and settled Louis on his dressing room sofa. “Do you want to take over?” He asked his assistant.

 

“Crowd control issue,” Darcy rolled her eyes; listening to her in-ear radio. “Be right back.”

 

Harry moved toward the door with an aborted;

 

“But-!”

 

Louis leaned over to get his head between his knees. He watched Harry’s silver sparkled boots move back towards him; his body settling beside him on the arm of the couch. He heard the snick of the water bottle lid being unfastened.

 

“Here,” Harry offered. “Have something to drink.”

 

Louis sat up a bit and sipped the cool liquid, avoiding Harry’s concerned gaze. It was almost worse than him flicking his eyes around the room is dismissive disinterest. Almost.

 

“Are you alright?” Harry sat with his fingers threaded together; one hand shifting hesitantly and then moving to clasp his shoulder.

 

“I’m fine,” Louis lied, just wanting to get the whole sordid thing over with.

 

He stood up, wavering a bit. Harry stood too and steadied him by clasping his arm.

 

“You sure about that, Tiny?”

 

Louis lifted his aggravated eyes; lips pressing together.

 

“I’m sure,” he promised darkly, ripping his arm from Harry’s hold to stalk back onto the stage.


	4. Chapter 4

Once the rapturous applause had died down, Louis went about making his cake.

 

Harry was making Lemon Verbena Sorbet with White Chocolate and Macadamia Nuts; something which required a great amount of concentration, thankfully.

 

Louis found himself relaxing a bit; throwing comments into the audience.

 

“So Louis,” Harry drifted over to his station, causing Louis to tense imperceptibly.

 

“Yes, Harry?” Louis responded sweetly.

 

“Are you a bowl-licker?” Harry enquired innocently, lifting his brows as his lush lips pursed a little in mischief.

 

“A-“ He swallowed, blue eyes melding to green. “A _bowl_ licker?” he checked.

 

Harry hummed, reaching by him; ringed hand brushing his arm as he dipped his finger into the leftover cake mix. He collected some up on his fingertip and twisted it against his scooped tongue seductively; lips suckling around his digit as he blinked slowly.

 

Louis decided there and then resolutely; that Harry Styles was not going to out-do him on national television. Maybe he did have an agenda; perhaps he _was_ more worried about his view count than anything else but Louis wasn’t a man to be challenged and not fight gracefully.

 

“Yeah, like to lick the odd _bowl_ ,” He answered. “Among other things.” He added smartly.

 

A few hollers sounded from the crowd. Harry only inched closer, dipping into Louis’ bowl to collect more mixture.

 

“Great batter, by the way,” Harry eyed him, lids low.

 

Louis twisted to tug at his burgundy jacket sleeve.

 

“Now what did we say about loosening up?” He asked.

 

Harry grinned and twisted away; shucking off his jacket to reveal his slinky black shirt.

 

“Want to wear my jacket again, Tiny?” Harry called from his side of the stage, dangling it from his fingertips. “All you had to do was ask!”

 

Louis stuck his tongue out and Harry tossed his jacket onto the side.

 

“Okay how’s my chocolate…?” Harry murmured to himself, mixing the melting white chocolate in the little bowl he had set up in hot water, testing it’s liquidity. “Pretty perfect,” He smiled.

 

Louis started his own butter icing.

 

“You know, a white chocolate drizzle would go nicely on top of my rich fudge cake,” Louis threw over to Harry.

 

“Should have brought clotted cream,” Harry retorted. “Or mascarpone.”

 

Louis shrugged, lips turning downwards before he glanced at the audience.

 

“What do we think, audience? Should Harry share his white chocolate with me?”

 

As the crowd cheer went up in agreement, Harry’s face turned to look at Louis across the twelve feet of floor separating them; his recognition of Louis’ innuendo clear on his surprised face.

 

“Oh, you’re trying to turn my own crowd against me,” Harry noted, crouching to dig something out from under his counter. He sprang up with a bowl of Ferrero rocher, brow arching with a smug smile. “Who wants a chocolate?” Harry asked.

 

The crowd clamoured for their treat whilst Louis shook his head at his antics; whipping his icing into a smooth paste. He carefully carried his hot cake tin out of the oven towards the cooling rack,.

 

“Careful there, Tiny,” Harry’s voice reached him even from the far corner of the studio audience. “Best leave the dangerous jobs for the big people…”

 

Louis’ tin almost slipped from his grip; landing heavily on the rack and slipping down until he caught it. He let out a breath of relief. Harry wafted by him; clean citrusy smell invading his nostrils as Harry leaned against his back.

 

“You’re right,” he murmured behind Louis’ ear to hide his lips from the cameras. “I think I should share my _white chocolate_ with you…”

 

Louis felt his crotch respond instantly; dick pressing against the front of his slacks. He leaned into the counter to abate his reaction; desire swallowed thickly in his throat.

 

Harry skipped back over with a delicate twirl; laying the melted white goo beside him.

 

“How shall we do it?” Harry asked, smirking at the camera.

 

Louis looked up at him.

 

“How do you like to do it?” He asked back; earning a genuine chuckle from Harry’s lips. The fact it made his eyes twinkle made something fizzle excitedly in Louis’ belly. Perhaps he would need Harry’s jacket after all.

 

“A slow drizzle,” Harry suggested, picking up the spoon in the bowl while Louis tried to edge his still-warm cake from the tin.

 

“This needs to cool down a bit,” Louis commented ruefully. “Want me to help with your sorbet?”

 

“You can suck on it for me,” Harry winked as they moved towards Harry’s kitchen and he slid the lid of the ice-cream maker open.

 

Louis dipped a teaspoon it, letting the acidic lemon roll over his tongue. It was exquisite. He waited until Harry was leaned over the counter taking his own taster before he snuck a look at his backside; tight to the material of his trousers and lush enough to want to touch. His skin practically itched with the need to; but Louis reminded his body that his mind disliked everything about Harry. Including his peachy, lovely ass.

 

“Nice?” Harry’s brow arched, eyes fastening on Louis in a way which expressed he’d caught Louis checking him out.

 

Louis smiled, refusing to feel ashamed.

 

“Very nice.” He replied truthfully. 

 

If he thought it might annoy Harry even the tiniest fraction by checking him out then he had no issue with getting caught doing it.

 

Harry blinked, lips nudging up in one corner.

 

“We better play the Hot Five before we plate up,” he mused.

 

Louis scampered back to his kitchen-top; testing his cake. He went about icing it; then dribbling the melted white chocolate on the top.

 

“Summer or Winter?” Harry asked first, drawing Louis’ gaze back to him curiously.

 

He wasn’t holding his cards; were these even the questions?

 

“Summer,” Louis voted. “Suns out, guns out,” he lifted his arm to tighten his bicep teasingly. “What’s your favourite season, Princess?”

 

“Winter,” Harry voted. “Curled up under a warm duvet…”

 

Louis’ brain stuttered to work. _Shit_. Harry was playing hard-ball.

 

“Shower or bath?”

 

Louis smirked.

 

“Shower. Don’t tell me you like baths...the old fashioned ceramic ones with claw feet?”

 

Harry merely flared his nostrils.

 

“Some of us prefer a little class,” he commented. “Town or Country?”

 

Louis twisted his lips.

 

“Town, I think. I like the bustle of people.”

 

“Likewise,” Harry nodded. “Classic or Modern?”

 

Louis bit his lip, eyes going over Harry’s attire. Everything about him screamed _modern_ but the song lyrics; the ones he couldn’t get out of his head and everything underneath Harry’s clothes spoke of something else, something more-

 

“Classic,” Louis selected, gaze locking with Harry’s.

 

“Boys or girls?” Harry asked and Louis almost let the surprised gasps of the audience distract him.

 

“Boys,” he laughed. “Think that much is obvious…”

 

Harry shrugged one shoulder.

 

“Nothing is obvious, Louis,” he countered.

 

“You like both?” He asked back.

 

“Gentlemen?” The floor manager cut into their moment with a gentle cough.

 

Harry turned to beam at his audience.

 

“Whoops,” he smiled disarmingly. “Put a pretty guy in front of me and-“ Harry swallowed. “Let’s re-do that last question,” he took a hitched breath.

 

Louis watched him; catching the eye of a lady in the front row who winked at him.

 

“One pillow or two?” Harry asked instead; earning laughter from the crowd.

 

“Two,” Louis opted. “One for sleeping on, one for hugging.”

 

His answer drew an empathised ‘ahh’ from the audience which made Louis blush.

 

“Shush,” he smiled. “Everyone does it…”

 

He felt Harry’s gaze on him but didn’t search it out; focusing on finishing his cake.

 

“Right. Well obviously I’m the winner because I stole some of Harry’s ingredients,” he smirked.

 

Harry plated his sorbet with the nuts and trailed to Louis’ counter to steal some icing instead.

 

“Cheat,” Harry stuck his tongue out before turning towards the testers with his creation.

 

He didn’t seem wholly to mind, Louis observed.

 

//

 

The testers scored Harry a low seventy-five while Louis' indulgent chocolate cake earned another round ninety points.

 

He let the enjoyment of winning ripple through him this time; setting off at a run to do a victory lap of the stage.

 

He dropped to his knees and pumped his arms in and out from his body with a gigantic grin as a quick thinking sound person started playing Queen.

 

“We are the champions, no time for _losers_ ,” Louis sang along as he got up off the studio floor to form an ‘L' shape with his fingers; lifting it to his forehead as he floated to Harry.

 

Harry merely watched him with a barely hidden smug smile.

 

“Well Louis certainly seems to have a lucky streak,” Harry commented to his audience. “I’m not sure anyone can truly believe sponge cake can beat fine dining but—”

 

 

“No time for losers,” Louis coughed, waving to the crowd to earn another cheer.

 

Harry pursed his lips, glancing away to read his autocue.

 

“That’s all for tonight ladies and gentlemen.. .work hard, play hard and be kind!”

 

The floor manager called _Cut_ as Louis twisted with an incredulous expression on his face.

 

“Be kind?” He questioned Harry as Darcy made her way back up to the stage. “You don’t even know what it means,” he accused bemusedly.

 

Just when he’d started to think there was more to Harry than his privilege upbringing, he went and proved him wrong.

 

Harry lifted his chin in superiority.

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he accused coolly, turning to march back to his dressing room as Darcy coaxed him off stage.

 

Louis followed; heated anger thrusting up through him like wildfire.  How dare he turn on the charm for the cameras and turn into a dick the second they stopped?

 

“I know enough,” Louis began to follow him down the corridor.

 

Harry scoffed and waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder.

 

“Someone take him out,” he murmured.  “Get him a taxi and pay for his dinner or something...”

 

Louis marched right into Harry’s dressing room with him; Darcy turning to buffer them slightly.

 

“That’s what you do isn’t it _Harold_? You just throw money around...pay for your sex and throw people away like dirty, used wrappers...”

 

Harry stalked by Darcy to press himself into Louis' space.

 

“Nobody uses that name!” He warned with a roar.

 

Louis lifted his chin, pressing closer.  He could feel a tickle against his chest from the ruffled frill on Harry’s shirt.

 

“Why, because it reminds you of exactly what a corrupt bastard you are?” Louis queried. “Or because _Daddy_ only uses it to boast to his friends at the yacht club and the rest of the time looks at you like you’re a part of the stain on his trousers which he only dropped long enough to knock up your poor innocent mother?”

 

The second the words were out, Louis regretted them. _Fuck._ What made him say _that_? What made him go that far?

 

The heavy throb in his tight, tight trousers was only partly to blame. His nipples peaked underneath his shirt from the fact his heavy panted breaths were causing their chests to graze together.

 

And yet Harry’s eyes were bright and dark at the sane time; wide open and lit with rage.

 

“Get. Him. Out.” He enunciated in a shaky voice; thick with anger.

 

Louis watched as his jaw flexed under grinding teeth; livid expression flushing his face.

 

“H-Harry, I didn’t mean to-“

 

“Out!” Harry snapped, arm lifting to point behind Louis at his room door.  “Now!”

 

Louis closed his eyes and squeezed them shut with a sigh; his lips twisting in regret.

 

He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something; closing it when Harry called for security.

 

At the door, Louis turned.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered; face pale with remorse.

 

He let himself be led from the building.

 

//

 

“Lou...do ya need lessons in romance?” Niall asked after Louis told him what had happened.

 

Louis hid his face in his hands; curling into a protective ball on his sofa while Niall slouched in a beanbag on the floor.

 

“Fuck. I’m an asshole,” he whined. “I’m an utter, complete shit-bag...”

 

Niall chuckled, “No you’re not,” but Louis didn’t believe him.

 

“I don’t even know why I said it,” Louis beseeched; stretching out a bit.

 

“Because it’s true,” Niall snorted.

 

Louis glanced at his friend.

 

“I was calling him out for not being kind,” Louis admitted. “And I said _that._ ”

 

Niall shrugged.

 

“They still want you to back again,” he mused.

 

Louis frowned, twisting from his position curled on his back.

 

“What?”

 

Niall dug into his letterman jacket pocket and produced a raggedy ripped-open envelope and a thin paper page.

 

“They want you back again,” he passed the envelope over.

 

Louis stared at it; eventually sliding the page put to read it.

 

“Fuck,” he choked.

 

Niall smirked.

 

“Told ya...”

 

“Steady summer feature?” Louis questioned aloud.  “Barbecue segment...hearty home made food.. .meat orientated...”

 

“See,” Niall added.  “Now you get to share your legendary barbecue tips.”

 

Louis re-read the letter five times checking he hadn’t missed anything.

 

“There’s no way Harry’s going to let me back on that show,” Louis mused.

 

Niall looked at him.

 

“What?” Louis asked.

 

“He’s signed it himself, Lou,” his friend pointed out.  “Fresh ink too.”

 

Louis’ eyes dipped to the signature and sure enough, the letter was signed in beautiful turquoise ink.

 

How fucking grandiose.

 

“He-“ he frowned, perplexed.  “He's going to get revenge,” Louis realised slowly with a dark laugh. “Revenge on my revenge!”

 

Niall shrugged.

 

“Maybe he likes you talking dirty to him.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“I think we can both agree that this little ruse has gone _way_ too far and it has to stop here.  I’m calling them tomorrow to politely decline,” Louis decided.

 

“But Lou!” Niall whined childishly.

 

“Shut up, Irish. It’s your fault I’m even in this mess,” he blamed.

 

Niall only yanked on his ankle until he slid to the floor where they commenced a cushion fight which Louis won after almost scratching Niall's eye out accidentally with the zipper of his cushion cover.


	5. Chapter 5

Louis was halfway into his Sunday roast when his doorbell rang.

 

His mum had come round to clean his flat and cook him lunch but they’d sat down to eat quite late; his watch telling him it was nearer four than three in the afternoon by now.

 

He got up, snagging a pig in blanket between finger and thumb as he waltzed across the room to check the peep hole.

 

 _Harry_?

 

Louis leaned away and checked again.

 

He was in a fine wool jacket with his hands tucked in his pockets, his hair in mesmerising styled waves and his skin looked so clear and fresh.  Not an ounce of anger showed on his handsome face.

 

But what was he doing there?

 

“Shit,” Louis muttered.

 

“Who is it, darling?” Jay asked from the table. “Jehovah's witness?”

 

Louis swallowed.

 

“No it’s-“

 

“Let them in then,” she cut over him. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

 

“I um,” Louis searched for sufficient words that didn’t describe exactly how many levels of asshole he was.

 

He opened the door.

 

Harry looked up; mid-move to pressing his thumb against the bell again. He over balanced and nearly toppled; catching himself and then straightening up.  He smiled widely, if a little fakely Louis noted.

 

Not that surprising considering the circumstances.

 

“Hi,” Harry spoke first.

 

“Oh, is it a boy?” came Jay’s voice from behind Louis, followed by movement. “Invite him in then, Lou don’t leave him on the doorstep all day!”

 

Louis rolled his eyes at his Mother's fuss and stepped back.

 

“Hi Harry,” he ground the words out robotically. “Why don’t you come in?”

 

The second Harry had shuffled his delicate; lean form inside the space; Jay pounced on him.

 

“Let me take your jacket—oh aren’t you just lovely? I’m Jay by the way, I’m Louis' mother. I don’t want you to feel awkward, we’ve had Louis' boyfriends round before so there’s no need for it to be a big deal...”

 

Harry gave Louis a curiously bemused look.

 

“Mum, he’s not my boyfriend,” Louis managed to clarify while Jay expertly slipped Harry's scarf off and folded his coat over her arm.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry smiled, turning his attention to Jay.

 

“Oh!” She blushed. “Aren’t you just—breath taking,” she mumbled. “Do you like roast beef?”

 

Louis opened his mouth to remind her that Harry was a Michelin trained chef and therefore _anything_ they served him wouldn’t come anywhere close to beating his own creations.

 

“I do,” Harry’s lips twitched becomingly. “However, it wasn’t my intention to disturb your lunch...”

 

“Louis, pull out a chair for the young man,” Jay bossed.

 

“Harry,” he inserted for her and she huffed with a roll of her eyes.

 

“I knew that,” she promised and he only nodded in acquiesce.

 

“Mum, for fuck’s sake he doesn’t want to stay for roast beef, he-“

 

“Actually I'd _love_ to stay,” Harry twisted to smile at Louis innocently.  “I’ve been wanting to meet your mother for a while now...”

 

Jay sent Louis an accusing look which he refused to acknowledge since he was burning holes in the side of Harry’s head with the lasers from his eyes.  At least he wished he _could_ with the heat of his anger.

 

He had on a stupidly good-looking black knitted jumper with planets on the front; the sleeves of which curled over the backs of his hands. When he rolled the edges up, settling into a seat to eat with them, Louis noted his ring-bare hands.

 

“No costume jewellery?” He asked as he returned to his chair, opposite the one Harry had picked to sit in while Jay filled another plate.

 

Harry looked at him.

 

“Your Mum seems nice.”

 

Louis felt shame wash over him; unsettling his stomach.

 

“I still owe you an apology for-“

 

“Here we are,” Jay pushed through the door with her shoulder; setting a huge plate of roast in front of Harry. “Louis made the mash,” she added.

 

Harry’s eyes met Louis’ with a rueful smirk.

 

“Really? Well I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who can cook...” he teased.

 

Jay settled back in her seat.

 

“He makes some lovely things, don’t you, Lou?” Jay glanced at Louis who only smiled wanly in response. “He'll make a lovely husband,” She squeezed Harry’s hand with a wink.

 

Louis’ fork clattered to his plate.

 

“I don’t think I’m hungry now,” he muttered.

 

Harry pressed the back of his fork into the mash; picking up some peas with the fork full of smooth potato

 

Jay watched him avidly while Louis silently berated himself for ever going near Harry again, motivated by revenge or not.

 

“Mmm,” Harry hummed appreciatively. “That touch of butter and mint in the peas just makes them-“ Harry pressed the pad of his finger and thumb together. “Perfect. I can see where Louis inherited his cooking skills from...”

 

Jay rested her palm against her chest; flustered.

 

“Oh stop!” She said with a smile which invited anything but.

 

Harry tucked into his dinner slowly; his table manners nearly as smooth as his professional veneer. Louis couldn’t help watching him dig through his vegetables to reach the roasted potatoes hidden underneath.  He couldn’t help wanting to course his fingers into his tidy hair to ruin it. He couldn’t help wondering what the _fuck_ Harry was doing there at all.

 

“That was perfection,” Harry sat back; patting his tummy as he smiled at Jay.

 

She stood up and waved at them both dismissively.

 

“Go and get settled on the sofa while I wash up. We’ve got crumble for after,” she added. “I’ll make some custard and bring it out.”

 

Louis shot to his feet.

 

“I’ll help.”

 

Harry stood more slowly with a lift of his brows.

 

“Actually _I'd_ like to help if that would be okay, Mrs Tomlinson?”

 

Louis glared at him.

 

“Call me Jay,” she insisted. “And I don’t need any help thank you. You boys go and relax...”

 

Louis curled himself up in the corner of the couch.

 

“Why are you here?” He asked plainly when Harry seated himself more stiffly in the other corner of the same seat.

 

Harry tugged his sleeves over his hands.

 

“You called the studio to turn down the summer guest spot,” Harry said. “Did you think they wouldn’t ask why?”

 

Louis sucked in a breath.

 

“You told them what I said,” Louis guessed.

 

Harry peeked at him.

 

“I told them that I probably instigated it with my privileged, egotistical ass,” Harry commented.

 

“It’s not just your ass that’s egotistical,” Louis muttered, pulling down the fleece throw folded on the back of his couch.

 

Harry’s lips twitched, sparkling eyes meeting Louis.

 

“Well you should know a lot about my ass judging by how much time you spend looking at it...”

 

Louis didn’t deny the accusation. But _shit_. Harry _had_ noticed. He'd have to keep his urges under control. He met Harry’s languidly amused gaze and kept it.

 

“Told you,” he rasped from a tight throat. “It’s very nice...”

 

Harry swallowed, twisting in his seat as their eyes locked.

 

“So why’re you here?” Louis asked again. “To convince me to come back and humiliate myself even more?”

 

Harry cleared his throat, dark curled lashes sweeping over pale green irises. The tip of his tongue slicked over the centre of his full lower lip, curling upwards to wet the bow of the upper one.  The flesh there looked darker than when he wore pale pink lip tint and prettier than the rouge of the dark red of their first meeting. Louis wondered what lip shade he was wearing today; the iridescent smokey shimmer on his lids matching the matt pink.

 

“I’m here to ask you to reconsider,” Harry admitted.

 

“Look, Harry,” Louis twisted on the sofa; folding his leg to prop his knee on the cushion; fingers threading together to rest there against it. “What I said to you was unforgivable,” he flicked his eyes to Harry’s face to check his reaction. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to keep coming back.”

 

Harry nodded with a thoughtful press of his lips.

 

“You only did that because of me,” Harry excused smoothly. “And the viewers seem to like you so-”

 

“Right boys!” Jay burst into the room with two bowls of crumble and custard. “Here’s your afters...”

 

The viewers may like him but Louis sensed that Harry _didn’t._ And he disliked the other man in equal measure. He huffed as his body refuted that claim; aching to touch Harry in any way that Harry might allow him to.

 

He watched as Harry’s long fingers curved around his dessert bowl, little finger slightly parted and nestling underneath it. His face lifted with a delighted smile at Jay; an expression Louis hadn’t yet been privy to.

 

He wanted to be angry that Harry was charming his own mother to secure his agreement to come back on the show. He wanted to stay resolute in his refusal and close the book on whatever it was that sat between them; awkward and uncomfortable.

 

But he only yearned to learn more about the complex young man beside him; now heartily tucking into his crumble with his tongue-first eating method which drew a twitch from Louis' dick.

 

“Do you stick your tongue out like that when you’ve got a dick on it?” Louis enquired mildly as he flicked his gaze away to start on his own pudding; smirking as he heard Harry choke on his food.

 

“So,” Jay re-entered with her own portion, settling into a chair. “What brings you to visit Louis this lovely Sunday afternoon then?” She asked Harry as he thumped his own chest in trying to recover from his mis-swallow.

 

“Louis, pat him on the back, love,” Jay chided softly as Louis made slow work of his sweet treat.

 

He glanced at Harry and circled a hand over his wide shoulders.  He wasn’t sure how he looked so small and so intimidating at the same time. Harry turned to glare at him.

 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he arched his brow in accusing response. Louis only smiled glibly.

 

“And he just came to say Hi,” Louis answered his Mum's question for him. “Nothing exciting-“

 

“Actually we offered Louis a guest spot on the show,” Harry appealed to Jay as if sensing she might be the key in securing Louis' agreement. “And he turned us down so I’m here to change his mind,” Harry smiled sweetly.

 

“Why did you turn it down, love?” Jay turned her gaze to Louis.

 

Louis refused to give Harry the pleasure of seeing his annoyance.

 

“I’m busy at work and I’m getting new orders now that my name’s out there,” he explained, placing his bowl on the coffee table.

 

“I think he’s shy,” Harry added beside him, causing Louis to clench his teeth together.

 

“How can I be fucking shy when I-“

 

“Don’t be rude to your friend,” Jay tutted, smiling warmly at Harry. “Harry seems such a lovely boy. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go and work with him for a bit longer...”

 

“No you don’t understand,” Louis stood up to punctuate his statement. “I’m going to make some tea,” he added before he left the room.

 

//

 

Louis carefully carried a tray with three mugs, a full teapot, sugar and milk and in case anyone had room for it; a small plate of biscuits.

 

“Where’s Harry?” Louis asked his Mum as he hedged into the living room.

 

“Said he had to go, love,” she shrugged. “I think he was sad that you hadn’t changed your mind...”

 

Louis snorted.

 

“My ass,” he muttered.

 

He didn’t know why but his eyes focused on the two bowls stacked nearly on the edge of the table near where Harry had been sitting; signalling he’d settled them tidily before disappearing.

 

So he _did_ know how to look after himself; he mused. He just chose not to.

 

//

 

He had to be fucking crazy. Certifiably insane.

 

The meeting with the _Hot Buns_ Director had taken place two weeks ago; Ben explaining to him what their expectations were and what his obligations entailed.

 

Truth be told, Louis was curious. He was curious to find out why something itched hotly under his skin every time he came to be near Harry and he was curious to find out if his x-rated dreams might stop once he’d purged Harry from his system. Six weeks of watching him prance and pirouette in a range of tight suits might just be enough to flush out his ridiculous attraction.

 

The man might have every age group, gender type and ethnic range queueing up outside the studio with excited chatter and wild screams but Louis was not that enamoured.

He just had a healthy sexual appetite and Harry happened to be on the menu.

 

The fact that Harry felt like the _only_ four course meal that mattered, was of no consequence. Louis had dated handsome men. He'd dated models. One overly-good-looking waif with curly hair and green eyes did not a match make.

 

Louis would do well to find another handsome man within the vicinity to actually remind Harry that his ass wasn’t the only ass worth ogling.

 

“Smoke?” A tall, brown haired man with brown eyes poked a packet of cigarettes at him.

 

He was dressed in a sporty hoodie style jacket and hi top sneakers over his jeans. Louis smiled, jigging nervously outside the entrance doors to the studio.

 

“Nah, I gave up,” he murmured.  “Just a bit wired that’s all...”

 

“You’re not the only one,” the guy rolled his eyes. “I work on the cookery show and the host just threw his toys put of the pram again...”

 

“Harry?” Louis checked.

 

The guy lifted his brows, mid inhale.

 

“Shit sorry,” he blew out a smokey breath. “Didn’t know you knew him.”

 

“I don't,” Louis promised.

 

“I’m Liam,” the guy stuck his non-smoking hand forward. “Show runner.”

 

“Louis,” Louis replied. “Are you new? I don’t remember seeing you last time.”

 

“I’m replacing Stephen,” he shared. “Apparently he was sneaking H’s suits out of the studio and giving them to his Uni friends. One of them showed up by chance at a party that got pictured for Hello magasine and the suit got credited. Needless to say word got back to H and he was let go...”

 

Louis glanced at him, sucking his lower lip.

 

“I can’t believe he had the audacity to actually steal his things,” Louis whistled. “Kid got some guts.”

 

Liam chuckled at his remark; eyes flicking from Louis' face to slightly over his shoulder.

 

“Uh...everything ok, H?”

 

Louis tensed at the mention of Harry’s presence; something he had been delaying by loitering outside.

 

“Might have known I’d find Tiny out here,” Harry drawled as Louis drew himself up straight; still not turning. “So it was smoking that stunted your growth then? Explains alot...”

 

Louis stepped  back a bit to swivel around, meeting Harry’s gaze.

 

“I’m fully grown where it counts, Princess,” he promised silkily.

 

Harry swooped his eyes away, fastening them back onto Liam.

 

“Apart from sending out an immediate fire warning, I need your help in rounding up the delightful cherubs taking part in the cupcake challenge,” Harry instructed; gaze flicking back towards Louis. “And when you’re done burning cancer sticks out here perhaps you’d be kind enough to come and set fire to my studio again?” He added. “The audience strangely seem to love you for it...”

 

Louis rolled his eyes as Harry strode away; already dressed in his smart stage clothes albeit without the jacket. The pants were pale blue silk with a intrinsic floral pattern and the semi sheer cream shirt had no buttons; only a pussy bow tied at the neck.

 

Fuck it if it wasn’t the hottest thing Louis had seen him wear. His dark inked tattooes peeked through the thin glossy material and his lithe body seemed to move perfectly with the liquidity of the fabric.  And that hoity-toity tied neck made him want to yank the damn bow undone; rough calloused fingers catching on the fine spun cloth.

 

Perhaps he did need a cigarette after all.

 

//

 

“Louis, we might need your help with the cherubs!” Liam grasped his arm in a firm grip as he stepped outside of his dressing room in his latest suit- perfectly tailored navy slacks and waistcoat that accentuated his waist. Aubergine bow tie; mauve patterned shirt.

 

He smoothed his quiff with his palm.

 

“What’s all this about cherubs?” He asked.

 

“We invited twelve kids from the local school,” Liam gestured impatiently with his hand. “H is doing a segment on cupcake decorating with them. He’s got Ariana Grande coming in to judge the winner...”

 

Louis stared at his new friend.

 

“Ok so where’s the kids?” He mused.

 

“That’s the problem,” Liam exasperated. “Three of them are missing!”

 

“Easy champ,” Louis cupped his arms and practiced some labour breathing with the taller man. “Right, you go and entertain the others,” Louis directed. “I’ll find the missing little angels...”

 

“Oh Louis _thank you,”_ Liam panted. “H will sack me in my first week if I don’t get this together...”

 

“Nobody’s getting sacked,” Louis promised as he threaded down the halls to look for the kids.

 

//

 

The studio was buzzing when Louis strolled onto the stage with two small hands tucked safely in his.

 

Beau and Xx had taken some coaxing but once they were on board then Xx linked up with Beau so as not to get left behind.

 

He’d just been retelling their favourite story about Goldilocks and the Three bears in a far funnier fashion when they stumbled into the slightly disorganised chaos of the main stage.

 

The nine other kids were running around screaming; waiting for their call while Liam tried to keep the ready made cupcakes out of their eager little hands.

 

Louis did what he knew best. He stuck four fingers into his mouth and he whistled, loud and sharp.

 

“Oi you lot,” he yelled. “Thought you wanted to be on T.V.?”

 

“We do, we do!” came the urgent cries as the rioting kids swarmed towards their new Idol.

 

“Well then act like it?” He reprimanded. “You don’t want your Nan seeing you running around do you? Let’s form a nice, organised group,” he suggested.

 

Quietened chatter broke out as the kids automatically arranged themselves in size order.

 

“Sir what’s your name?” one small pretty dark girl asked.

 

“It’s Louis,” he shared.

 

“Louis, can we have a cake?”

“Louis, I need the toilet...”

 

He chuckled as his name was bandied around the group; a tug on his trouser leg bringing his gaze lower.

 

“You’re the coolest person I know,” a ginger haired boy told him.

 

Louis ruffled his hair.

 

“I doubt that. Right, good job everyone,” he praised. “Let’s-“

 

“Oh there’s my little darlings!”

 

Harry’s clipping boots sounded across the stage as Louis froze in place.

 

“Finally back with people your own size,” Harry murmured as he deliberately brushed him on passing.

 

Louis arched a brow, purposely dropping his gaze to the crotch of Harry’s lovely snug trousers, pursing his lips suggestively.

 

“Speaking of small things...”

 

 

Harry threw back his head and laughed; the devilish smirk in the corner of his mouth and glittering smug look in his eye promising Louis that he wasn’t lacking underneath his clothes.

 

“My favourite little people all in one place,” he went on smoothly. “Louis are you staying to set fire to the children?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“No I'm just a stand-in child minder,” he promised, flicking his head as his quiff wilted.

 

“Stay!” Beau pleaded, starting off a round of whining pleases from the other kids. “Please Louis?”

 

Louis looked Harry in the eye.

 

“It’s your call, Princess...”

 

Harry looked at the children who moved to tug at his jacket and trousers.

 

“Please, Sir? Please can he stay? He’s so cool...”

 

“He’s the coolest,” Harry agreed with an amused chuckle. “Alright, since you asked so nicely...and you don’t need to call me _Sir_ ,” he smiled. “Harry is just fine.”

 

“Not H?” Louis asked pointedly.

 

Harry ignored the question and turned towards the table set up for the decorating task.


	6. Chapter 6

“Who’s idea was it to start a cake fight?”

 

Harry stalked down the corridor towards his dressing room; the cake segment completed but his clothes were near ruined and he still had Louis' section to film.

 

“Uh I think you’ll find that-“

 

Harry snatched the towel that Liam offered him with a hiss.

 

“I bet it was Louis.” Harry added suspiciously.

 

Liam couldn’t help his smirk.

 

Harry latched onto it, face morphing onto a frown.

 

“I don’t see what’s funny here, Leeyum,” Harry reprimanded. “Look at me!”

 

Liam cleared his throat.

 

“We’ll get you cleaned up, H,” he promised. “In no time at all...”

 

//

 

Harry was glaring at Louis.

 

Louis could feel it as he moved about; firstly making his burgers from scratch and then griddling them under his watchful (angry) eyes.

 

He’d come out of his dressing room around half an hour late; only the tiniest signs of cake remaining. A smear of frosting on his suit jacket which had dried in around the button...a smidge of blue colouring in his hair. The audience at home would never know. Louis did. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to stop himself laughing at Harry’s outraged; indignant expression as he’d crawled from the sudden pitch of cupcakes in the fight Louis had incited.

 

“So you give them around five minutes each side for rare,” Louis narrated, flipping his patties. “Seven for medium and ten for well done...”

 

He braved a look at Harry. His eyes were focused on his chest; covered with the red apron the other man was famed for wearing. All of the promotional shots for the show featured that very same apron and Louis suddenly realised why he was sulking.

 

“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing this,” Louis flapped the apron out.  “My blue one got taken prisoner in the cake war...”

 

Harry’s eyes flicked from his chest to his face.

 

“Why would I mind?”

 

Louis snorted.

 

“Princess, you’re looking at me like I killed your cat...”

 

“Don’t bring Olivia into this,” he pouted, furrows forming above his brows.

 

“Oh you really have a cat?” Louis went on smoothly. “What breed?”

 

“A fluffy one,” Harry replied. “We like cuddling.”

 

Louis grinned a bit.

 

“Who doesn’t?”

 

“I make her food fresh daily and she has her own room.”

 

Louis smirked at the audience.

 

“Sounds spoiled,” he remarked.

 

Harry looked to the crowd; seemingly snapping out of his sullen phase.

 

“Well I don’t have anyone else to dote on so why not?”

 

 

“No husband?” Louis questioned, earning light laughter from the audience which he winked at.

 

“No, Louis, I’m single,” Harry smiled wanly.  “How about you? I expect you have flocks of men queuing for you now that you’ve appeared on the show...”

 

Louis laughed loud and sharp.

 

“Hah! Not likely, Princess.”

 

“What’s the matter? They don’t like a man who works with his hands?” Harry’s brows quirked up suggestively.

 

Louis met his eyes for the first time since the cake fight.

 

“More like the struggling artist part,” he mused. “Poor guys always finish last...”

 

“Shall we plate these up?” Harry moved to help Louis ferry his burgers onto one plate for the final shot.

 

Louis shifted to allow him to press close to his side to reach the grill.

 

“Utterly delicious,” Harry murmured against his ear; one hand slipping behind his back to squeeze his ass-cheek.

 

Louis fought his very being to stop himself jolting at the audacious touch. _Fuck_ , he was hard in a heartbeat. His butt cheek throbbed with the memory of those long, ringed fingers pumping his flesh in perfect appreciation.

 

“Edible, in fact,” Harry smiled to himself as he moved away.

 

Louis closed his eyes and took a fortifying breath; thankful he had the apron to cover his reaction. He'd wait until filming was over to show Harry who was in charge.

 

The audience tried his food and Harry commended him for his efforts. Louis took a shy bow as Harry closed off his segment.

 

“I’ve got this for next week, Lou,” he lifted up a step that one might use in trying to reach a high cupboard. “You can finally be on the same level as me, then...”

 

Louis laughed at the joke but there was nothing funny about the heated burn of his rock hard dick.

 

//

 

He had to find him. He had to find him and tell him _exactly—_

_What exactly was he going to tell him?_

_Fuck._

He’d waited until most of the crew had gone home; had asked over and over if Harry had left but nobody had seen him leave his dressing room at all.

 

So he went there. He went there to tell him _something_ and to remind him not to play with fire.

 

Louis knocked on Harry's  dressing room door and opened it without waiting for approval.

 

When he moved inside; Harry was stood by his vanity desk, nostrils flaring and eyes dark with the low light of the room. His hair flopped in little curls over his forehead; damp still from where he must have wetted it to get the remainder of the food colouring out.

 

Louis walked toward him, tongue lathing over his lips. He noticed the way Harry stood still; silently defiant until he came close and then he noticed the slight catch in his breathing; the tiny tremble in his body as he dipped his chin.

 

“What do you-“ Harry spoke first, so soft that Louis felt it more than heard it.

 

He stepped closer, forcing Harry to step back quickly; overbalancing in his uncertainty. His hand went behind him but the desk saved him from falling; suit pants tightening around his thighs. Louis was surprised he was still wearing it; jacket too.

 

Harry frowned; the flex above his brow signalling his distress and he moved to surge up; back into Louis' space but Louis only pressed into him harder to pin him in place; his hands resting either side of Harry’s body.

 

Harry was shaking; breaths shallow as he dipped his chin and when he lifted it; Louis struck.

 

Harry’s lips were in the perfect position to sear his to them;  stealing a kiss from his weak mouth. Harry wasn’t all that weak.

 

Fuck.

 

Louis was addicted.

 

Only a few seconds and the briefest of kisses and-

 

Harry made a noise in his throat and fidgeted to comfort himself; fingers wrapping tentatively around Louis’ neck. To strangle him or to hold him there, Louis wasn’t sure.

 

He shunted closer; knocking Harry back against the mirror. Harry kissed him harder in response. He clutched at the silky back of  his  waistcoat and couldn’t find purchase; curling his foot around the back of his knee.

 

“Fucking _infuriating,_ ” Louis whispered before flicking his tongue into his mouth; thrusting up against him; hard.

 

Their lips pressed painfully together; crushed by edges of teeth.

 

“Oh,” Harry gasped; fingers dumbly trying to unbutton the waistcoat to strip it off. He fisted his hands into the back of Louis’ shirt and yanked upwards to free it from his trousers.

 

“Sinful,” Louis added accusingly as he surged his fingers into the mass of Harry’s hair to tug his head back, baring his throat and opening his mouth to his tongue.

 

Harry wasn’t going to win this one, Louis was determined to ensure it.

 

Harry seemed willing to submit which was equally surprising as it was erotic. Something inside Louis felt dark and happy at hearing him moan on his throat; at feeling him press closer for _more._

Jesus.

 

He was exquisite. Tasted like heaven and—

 

Louis groaned as Harry’s hands made it underneath the clinging fabric of his shirt; thumbs pressing into his belly and fingers gliding over his sides.

 

“Hate you,” Harry mumbled, biting along his jaw then softening it with plump-lipped kisses. “Fucking _detest_ you...”

 

The way that Louis' fingertips dug under his ass cheeks to haul him close wasn’t gentle. Harry gave out a throaty growl at the manhandling gesture and squeezed Louis' hips with his muscular thighs.

 

“Get your hands off me,” He warned as he flicked his tongue into Louis' mouth; long fingers threading into Louis’ hair to tug him closer still, urgent for his mouth in any shape or form.

 

Louis curled his fingers; nails scratching into the silk of Harry’s trousers with a buzz that had Harry lifting his knees to gain more of Louis’ hands and not the _less_ he’d asked out loud for.

 

Louis’ body responded hotly to the invitation; palms sliding over the tops of his thighs so that his fingers could tangle in the fastening of the suit pants. He twisted his wrist to glance the backs of his fingers over the bulge there- already harder than Louis had imagined he might be.

 

His own body was teetering dangerously close to an edge he hadn’t dived off in a while and he had a point to prove yet. He sucked in a needy breath as he quickly unfastened the catch; hands fisting around his waist band either side as he fell forward into another deep consuming kiss.

 

But fuck he wanted him. He wanted him on his belly on the bed; on his knees on the carpet and on  all fours wherever the fuck Harry liked. His arms tightened with the knowledge of that need; his breath hot and fast as he sucked a claiming kiss into his jaw; the ear-splitting sound of material rippling drilling them both in their frenzied states.

 

Harry’s lips opened into a perfect ‘o', eyes fixed on the ripped front seams of his trousers.

 

Shit. There just went thousands of dollars of Gucci, Louis winced.

 

Harry kissed him differently then, urgent and _sweet_ somehow considering the damage he’d done. Louis felt long fingers cradle his face, long legs curling around him to tighten him into Harry’s claiming embrace.

 

Soon, Harry was unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off his smaller body.

 

“Fuck me,” Harry told him starkly. “ _hard_ ,” He added quickly afterwards in case Louis had any misconceptions.

 

Louis slowly untied the pussy bow around Harry’s neck with gentle fingers.

 

//

 

 

Louis loosened his grip on Harry's hair slowly; catching his strained breath.

 

Harry looked ruined. His chest and face were flushed; his pupils were big with spent desire and eyelids lazily blinking in his sated release.

 

Their bellies were sticky with that release. Louis shifted on his feet and felt Harry clench around him. It felt sticky there, too. They hadn’t stopped to find condoms.

 

Louis flicked his sweaty, drooping fringe away and eased out of him; gently laying his thighs on the desk where he sat; scrunched into the back of the vanity from their rather passionate sex.

 

“You okay?” He asked, because—well he wasn’t an asshole.

 

Harry swallowed, eyes focusing on the wall behind him as he drew his feet up onto the dresser top; legs folded up in front of his body in a barrier.

 

“You can leave now,” he murmured lowly, licking his lips.

 

Louis wanted to fuck him again just as hard.

 

“What?” He frowned.

 

Harry dipped his head, fingers shaky as they combed through his own messy fringe. He curled his legs closer into his body.

 

“You heard,” he murmured.

 

Louis stepped back; hand cupped over his dick.

 

“What, no payment?” Louis arched a brow. “You at least offered me money last time even though I didn’t take it,” he accused gruffly as he searched for his trousers to shove on to walk to his own dressing room for his normal clothes.

 

“Didn’t get a service last time,” Harry quipped, causing Louis to still mid shirt replacement.

 

“You remember me,” he bit out of his dry throat. Dry from too much kissing.

 

Harry huffed behind him as he buttoned himself up.

 

“I didn’t really forget, _Lou_ ,” he added snidely, a loud reminder that even though Louis had gone there to prove his dominance; it was Harry who held the power.

 

Louis swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up from his stomach. He fetched his shoes and he walked. If he was a stronger man he wouldn’t have looked back when he reached the door.

 

The vulnerable boy cuddling his folded legs on the counter was a stark opposite of the man he’d just fucked hard enough to bring them both to a dizzying release.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut to the image and slipped out of the room.

 

//

 

“We think Louis should do an interview.. .”

 

It was Monday morning.

 

Louis had spent the weekend catching up on his real job and trying to forget all about a man named Harry Styles.

 

Niall had-of course- talked non-stop about the latest aired show; Louis still refusing to watch himself on screen.

 

“Why not, Lou?” his friend had wheedled.

 

“Because I’m not a masochist,” he’d replied.

 

Apparently Ben was though.

 

“What?” Harry snapped, sitting forward.

 

He had gold boots on with his favourite black jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Louis would have doubted he even owned them unless he’d seen him wearing one.

 

“The interview would be with you,” Ben added with a grin.

 

Harry opened and closed his mouth.

 

“Once again- What?”

 

“They like it that he throws the questions back at you,” Ben shrugged. “Every time you ask him something he-“

 

“Asks me something too,” Harry mumbled, flicking Louis a sullen look.

 

Louis had nearly had an anxiety attack that morning. Facing Harry after their last meeting had to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.  Luckily Liam had shared his cigarettes.

 

It didn’t erase the images Louis had on file in his mind though. The ones of Harry crying out; begging for him and the ones of Harry's thighs clutching him tightly to keep him close.

 

_No, the cigarettes definitely didn’t help with any of that._

 

Nor the stinging pain of his rejection. Because it still wasn’t really clear why Harry had let Louis fuck him when he had no intention of following through. It meant five weeks of awkwardness and a risk to their on-screen chemistry.

 

Someone had once told Louis that kind of chemistry always disappeared if the two people slept together. He should have thought about that when he was thrusting into Harry’s body and licking the cries of pleasure off his tongue.

 

_Fuck me. Hard._

Louis kept his gaze on Ben to avoid giving away any of the emotions that were fighting inside him. He knew that his face _always_ gave him away when he was feeling hurt or confused and he didn’t want Harry to  know how he felt. He didn't deserve to.

 

He shifted in his seat.

 

“So are we doing the Hot Five or what?” He asked.

 

Ben clapped his hands together and stood up to pace the carpet.

 

“We think you should do a full interview. We’d put it in the celebrity interview slot. If it’s as popular as we’re expecting then you can do the Hot Five next week,” Ben suggested. “Start thinking up some questions you think the viewers would like to ask,” he added.

 

“Erm, hello?” Harry lifted a hand, tucking his wayward soft mass of hair back with his other hand.

 

 _Ringless_. Not that Louis cared.

 

“Hello,” Ben waved back teasingly, making Louis chuckle.

 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” He questioned.

 

Ben smiled bemusedly.

 

“You don’t like the idea?”

 

Harry slid a look at Louis from the side of his eyes.

 

“Can’t we just have the celebrity interview me instead?” Harry objected.

 

“The point is that the viewers like Louis,” Ben explained. “They like how he talks to you like-“

 

“A piece of shit?” Harry supplied sweetly.

 

Ben rolled his eyes, sitting back in his seat and leaning across to run his palm onto Harry’s knee.

 

“Like he talks to his friends,” Ben amended.

 

His hand glided further up Harry’s thigh and Harry tensed almost imperceptibly. Almost; except Louis was super sensitive to everything and he caught the meaning in that body language without it needing to be explained.

 

Harry was fucking _Ben._

No wonder he felt awkward about their tryst. No wonder he—

 

Louis shot to his feet as the pair of them lingered in eye contact; Ben’s soft smile making Louis feel irrationally sick.

 

“See you at the taping, then,” he babbled. “I’ll bring some questions.”

 

“Oh, Louis, wait,” Ben stood up, his fingers taking too long to slide off Harry’s thigh if Louis had to judge it.

 

He met the older man’s smiley eyes.

 

“We want to film a little something off-set,” Ben moved to his desk to retrieve a set of stapled papers. “A farm visit, milk some cows that kind of thing...”

 

Louis snorted.

 

“Harry’s going to milk cows?”

 

Harry sat back, crossing his long legs before him and he fluttered his fingers in the air.

 

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I milk all kinds of things...”

 

Louis snatched the papers and twisted to leave; pulling up the door behind him but not before he heard Ben’s soft voice murmuring to Harry.

 

“Baby, what’s the matter? Tell Daddy...”

 

//

 

“He’s a fucking liar!”

 

Louis slammed Niall’s flat door and stormed down the hallway towards his kitchen.

 

“Hi Tommo, how are ya?” Niall muttered to himself acerbicly in the hall.

 

“Where’s your whiskey?” Louis opened cupboard doors and slammed them shut in his search.

 

“Don’t have any,” Niall chirped.

 

Louis turned to glare at him.

 

“You _what_?”

 

Niall smirked.

 

“Alright keep ya knickers on, I’m kidding,” he moved to pat Louis on the shoulder whilst opening a cupboard door Louis had already checked.

 

“I already looked and-“

 

Niall slid out the giant orange plastic toolbox set on the bottom shelf.

 

“Toolkit,” Niall lifted his brow.

 

Louis actually hugged him.

 

“Genius,” he commended.

 

Niall chuckled and peeled him off.

 

“So what’s he lied about?” he asked as he lifted down glasses and went about breaking some ice.

 

Louis sighed.

 

“He said he was single.”

 

Niall’s face lit the biggest smug grin Louis had ever seen.

 

“I knew it! You _do_ want to date him!”

 

Louis blinked.

 

“Is that really still news?”

 

Niall nodded.

 

“You've moved on from denial. This is a front page headline.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and knocked back a mouthful of the drink Niall slid across the counter.

 

Niall guided him to the kitchen table and sat him down.

 

“Who’s he with then?”

 

“The show Director!” Louis exasperated. “I mean _...what the fuck_?”

 

Niall made a face.

 

“Are you surprised?” He mused. “All those lovey actors sleep with their boss...”

 

“Niall, I fucked him in his dressing room three nights ago,” Louis relayed between clenched teeth. “Which...had I known he was _already_ being fucked by the _Director_ then you know, I might not have _actually_ done.”

 

Niall opened his mouth and spilled out some earnest laughter, wiping his eyes when Louis poked him in protest.

 

“Jeez, you move fast, Tommo,” he cackled. “Straight in there!”

 

Louis swallowed down some more amber liquid.

 

“I was so _angry_ ,” he remembered. “He kept making snide remarks and in the end I just wanted to-“

 

“I get the picture,” Niall held up both hands in surrender. “So how did you find out about the other guy?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Had a meeting this morning about this week’s show and I saw this guy-Ben- touch Harry’s thigh and it—I _knew_ ,” he vouched. “Niall, he called him _baby_ ,” Louis felt his stomach lurch, voice dropping to a whisper.  “And he referred to himself as his _Daddy._ I think I might be scarred for life.”

 

Niall sipped his whiskey and nodded thoughtfully.

 

“But you didn't see them kiss?”

 

Louis shot him a distraught look.

 

“No fucking thank you.”

 

“Maybe it’s just a team thing,” Niall shrugged. “Maybe they call Ben Daddy because he’s in charge?”

 

“No,” Louis shook his head tersely. “This is most definitely a gay thing. He’s not a sugar baby he’s rich enough so the only kind of baby that he can be is—”

 

Louis retched, eyeing his glass.

 

Niall frowned, twisting his lips.

 

“So what’re you gonna do?”

 

Louis stared at him.

 

“That’s why I’m here, Niall. For you to tell me what to do!”

 

Niall snorted.

 

“I’m rubbish at advice!”

 

“I know that’s what got me into this mess!” Louis yelled back.

 

“Right, chill out mate,” Niall soothed. “Let’s think about this...”

 

Louis finished his drink and rose to pour another.

 

“He likes you,” Niall assured. “He’s not going to fuck you for no reason,” he considered. “But there’s definitely some kind of tie with that Ben bloke.”

 

“Wow.  So smart,” Louis muttered.

 

“And you can’t find out what’s going on with them?” He checked.

 

Louis licked his lips. _Liam._ Of course! He was bound to know the true nature of Harry’s relationship with Ben. He smiled at Niall.

 

“You’re the best. “


	7. Chapter 7

Louis dressed in his own clothes for the farm scene. There was no way he was going to milk cows and chase sheep in one of those designer suits so he bought brand new indigo jeans that suited his short legs and teamed them with classic red and white converse and a checked red shirt over a white t-shirt. His denim jacket warded off the chill.

 

His fringe was already falling in his eye but he flicked it away and pocketed his hands while he waited for the cameras to get set up.

 

Harry had a trailer.  He was keeping warm inside it picking out his outfit according to Liam as Louis stood with him while he smoked (Louis didn’t join him this time).

 

“What’s he wearing today?” Louis asked gently to secure the other man’s trust.

 

“Pretty sure I saw designer wellies,” Liam smirked.

 

Louis chuckled.

 

“Doesn’t strike me as the country type,” he mused.

 

Liam shrugged.

 

“I guess he’s just a city boy at heart.”

 

Louis nodded, meeting Liam’s gaze.

 

“So Lynne was telling me that he and Ben had a thing once...”

 

Liam’s hand paused on putting the filter tip of his cigarette to his lips.

 

“Lynne said that?” He questioned.

 

Louis swallowed, begging his heart not to take flight from its manic rhythm.

 

“I saw them, you _know_ ,” he arched a brow suggestively.

 

Liam dropped his unfinished cigarette to the drive and ground it out; lips pursing as he selected his next words. When his eyes met Louis' they were haunted with something that Louis couldn’t decipher.

 

“Things aren’t always what they look like, Louis,” he mumbled, a crease forming on his forehead that hadn’t been there before.

 

//

 

 

“Alright, let’s do this...”

 

Harry beamed at the camera; his long legs encased in dark blue jeans and his designer wellies, his wool coat buttoned over a lavender jumper.

 

Louis only knew about the jumper because Harry had exited his trailer without his coat; sending Liam to fetch it when he got out in the cold air.

 

They were having a milking competition. Louis had confidently assumed he had the farm visit in the bag since his grandparents owned a milk farm in Scotland but apparently Harry had many, many hidden skills.

 

Including milking cow's teats.

 

“Get ready...set...go!” The farmer counted them in and Louis began to pump furiously; fingers numb in the cold and breath billowing hotly out.

 

“Good to know you’re good with your hands, Lou,” Harry flirted, ducking under his cow to grin at him.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“You already knew that,” he remarked, earning a brow arch from Harry. “Because I’m a carpenter,” Louis added pointedly.

 

“That’s tough man’s work,” Harry panted as he pulled left hand then right over and over. “This requires a more gentle touch...”

 

“I’m not a caveman,” Louis sneered. “Have you even seen my work?”

 

Harry fidgeted on his stool.

 

“Liam, fetch me a cushion!” He called. “My back’s playing up...”

 

“Too much time spent on it I expect,” Louis muttered as Liam shoved a soft padding underneath Harry mid-milk.

 

Louis leaned up and kicked his stool away, earning some cheers from the crew.

 

“Come on Tommo!” Liam jeered.

 

Harry sent him a scathing look.

 

“Who’s side are you on?”

 

“Yours of course,” Liam smiled sweetly.

 

Harry stretched and twisted, checking the clock.

 

“How long left?” He wondered.

 

“Twenty seconds,” the farmer called.

 

“Big finish in twenty seconds,” Louis murmured.  “Story of my life...”

 

“No staying power then, Lou?” Harry accused happily from behind his cow.

 

“Why are you calling me Lou?” He wondered. 

 

Harry grinned again.

 

“Someone wrote to the show and complained that calling you _Tiny_ is both belittling and unfair since you’re apparently the “sole source of sunshine” in their life,” Harry recounted amusedly.

 

“Ten seconds!”

 

“Shit!” Louis hissed; then, “I mean, oh darn...”

 

Harry laughed loudly; more of a cackle. He got to his knees and pumped hard.

 

“Five, four, three, two, one! Stop milking!” The farmer called.

 

Louis let go of the teats and flopped over the side of the cow; rubbing his arms.

 

“Hey, no cheating!” The farmer  strode forward to prize Harry away from his teats where he’d continued to milk them.

 

He lifted a brow at Louis to dare him to kick up a fuss. Louis merely looked him over; eyes tracing the faint stubble he was growing on his jaw. He wondered what it felt like to kiss him with it? Was it a soft kind of pickle because it was still short; would it burn more scraped against his throat than it would against his belly? How did it feel all sharp with the plush softness of Harry’s lips beside it?

 

Louis sucked in a helpless breath. He was a gone man, that much was certain.

 

Harry flicked his eyes away from Louis’ intent stare.

 

“Shall we measure it out?” He asked.

 

//

 

Louis lifted both hands in the air and whooped, doing a little boxing-dance in victory.

 

“Two millilitres!” Harry huffed. “That’s _nothing._ ”

 

Louis smirked.

 

“That’s called winning,” he corrected. “Guess you don’t know what feels like...”

 

Harry shoved his fingers into his hair, his rings replaced in the break from filming after the milking game.

 

“I’ve still got two more events to pull it back,” Harry assured himself.

 

The next game was an egg and spoon race. Louis wasn’t quite as coordinated as he hoped; distracted by Harry’s long legs in skin tight jeans that matched his own; both their jackets shucked due to the number of takes it required to capture the right footage.

 

Harry won the race which left only one final challenge: horse racing.

 

Louis hadn’t ridden a horse in several years but Harry apparently had learned dressage; quickly teaching his animal the art of dancing; something which Louis rolled his eyes at.

 

The bridleway wasn’t very long and the location executive wanted to film it in one swoop so the pair of them hovered in their saddles nervously.

 

“Just remember, sweetheart, we’re in this together,” Harry stroked the neck of his horse.

 

“She's not one of your night callers,” Louis muttered.  “Don’t think the sweet talk will work...”

 

“Worked on you,” Harry cast; more aggrieved than accusing.

 

Louis twisted to stare at him; his horse unsettled beneath him as if sensing the tension but the second the starting shot went off; the horses leapt into action.

 

“Fuck!” Louis’ hand slipped off the reign and he scrabbled to find it again; half his body flung backwards with the force of the animal lurching forward.

 

He gripped on for dear life until his heart was no longer thundering as hard as the horses hooves.

 

“Yee-ha!” Harry whooped, gesturing a lasso above his head which Louis found genuinely endearing, chuckling and rolling his eyes before he gestured his animal to bolt faster.

 

They came side by side; glancing across the thrall to check each other's standing whilst checking the way ahead for any obstructions.

 

A low branch was coming up which Louis guided his horse to leap across smoothly; Harry mere seconds behind.

 

When a broken fence appeared on the way; Louis feared Harry might not clear it; slowing his animal down to allow him room to  cross the middle where the rungs were broken right down to the ground.

 

Harry veered left towards the higher side and Louis quickly changed angle to follow.

 

“Harry! Turn right!” Louis yelled.

 

Harry shot him a look that Louis would never forget; his boyish enthusiasm and go-getting enjoyment completely vacant in his pale-skinned, wide-eyed face.

 

“I’m trying!” He gasped; pulling on the reigns to slow his animal down only the mare seemed intent to jump the highest part.

 

Louis caught up to the flank; leaning forward to try and soothe the animal but it was too late; when he reached forward, the horse sprung into its leap; front hooves clearing the top rung.

 

Louis brought his horse to a rearing stop before the fence; Harry’s horse catching her back hooves on the splintered fence top; causing her to  stumble and fall.

 

“Fuck,” Louis jumped off his mare to run toward danger; the fallen horse twisting up off her side after the awkward landing; leaving Harry on the ground beneath.

 

Louis vaulted across the fence and dove on top of him to protect him from any possible impact from the frightened mare; hoping the impact of his own body hadn’t injured Harry further.

 

The mare landed her hooves by their feet; scampering away to meet Louis’ horse in the brush while Louis rolled away from Harry’s prone body with fearful breathlessness.

 

“Harry,” he got to his knees to feel over him for broken bones. “Are you okay? Talk to me?” He pleaded.

 

He looked to Harry’s face to check he was conscious; to check he was breathing and he found the slim young man blinking open his eyes slowly.

 

“Fuck,” Harry whispered; arms cradled around himself.

 

Louis smoothed his palms over his legs.

 

“Everything okay here? Does it hurt?”

 

Harry shook his head until Louis' fingertips bit gently into his ankles.

 

“Ouch,” he hissed, drawing his right foot upwards out of his touch.

 

“Ankle, okay,” Louis whispered, one hand cupping his arm. “Not life threatening,” he muttered to himself.

“Anything else?” He asked into pinpointed pupils.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

Louis unconsciously stroked back his hair, settling beside him to cradle him against his warmth as he waited for the crew to catch them up.

 

Harry tucked himself against Louis' thighs a bit; arms folded to keep himself warm while Louis rubbed his arm and tousled his hair whilst frowning distractedly into the distance.

 

“If you wanted to feel me up you didn’t have to use a medical emergency as an excuse,” Harry’s words were slow and slurred as Louis looked down with a swallow.

 

Harry looked so beautiful curled up in his lap but it was the worst circumstance for Louis to feel attraction tugging in his lower belly.

 

“Didn’t I?” he whispered; heart thrashing in his chest.

 

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes.

 

“I kind of liked it the first time...”

 

“Shh,” Louis stroked his hair and cuddled him closer. “Help is coming.”

 

Harry frowned a bit, licking his lips and opening his eyes a slit.

 

“Come with me to the hospital?” He asked.

 

Louis nodded right away.

 

“Of course. Yeah, of course, Princess.”

 

The way he said the nickname so softly differentiated from how he’d poke it at Harry accusingly on air.

 

“Lou...don’t—please just-“

 

“What happened, are you okay?” Graham ran into the foreground while Louis soothed Harry with gentle brushes.

 

“Does he look okay?” Louis accused. “That bloody horse thinks it’s a champion,” he added.  “Went for the highest fucking fence!”

 

Graham dropped to his knees on the other side of Harry.

 

“Did he hit his head? Any bleeding?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Just a twisted ankle so far,” he recounted.

 

“Louis gave me a _very_ thorough going over,” Harry offered from his bundled position on Louis' thighs.

 

Graham glanced at the smaller man.

 

“I hope you’re not trying anything untoward while he’s out cold, you know we can have you blacklisted like that!” Graham snapped his fingers with an angry glance.

 

“Fuck off,” Louis pulled Harry closer to his body when Graham moved to unsettle him. “He’s not to be moved until the medics get here. I’m not some sick fucking pervert, you know...”

 

Harry blinked at the boss.

 

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” he promised softly.

 

Graham gave Louis another distrustful glance as more crew members climbed the bridleway.

 

The ambulance took ten minutes to arrive; Louis overseeing the stretcher that Harry was carried down the green on.

 

“We need Mr. Tomlinson to ride with him,” the medic told Graham. “We need to ask some questions about what happened so that we can complete the paperwork on the way over...”

 

Graham nodded his approval, already on his cell phone before the doors had even been shut.

 

“We’re taking him to City General,” the medic added. “You can meet us there. “

 

A sinking feeling hit Louis as he realised who Graham would be calling. All too soon Ben would be back on the scene and Louis would be side-lined again.

 

//

 

 

Louis settled into a tiny seat by the trolley bed, willing down the familiar bile in his stomach.

 

He licked his lips and traced his eyes over his threaded fingers as he rubbed his lips together; belatedly realising Harry had his eyes open and had tilted his head to look at him.

 

“Okay, Princess?” He checked softly.

 

Harry stared at him; legs fidgeting and fingers flexing and Louis felt something flood his chest. He twisted to reach Harry’s hand; enclosing warm fingers around his cold ones; covering the drip that had been nestled in the back of it so that he didn’t feel conscious of it.

 

“You’ll be okay,” Louis assured.

 

Harry closed his eyes and his body went lax.

 

//

 

“Have some jelly,” Louis poked the dessert pot towards Harry’s face.

 

Harry was waiting to be called for a cast. The x-ray had shown a small fracture that needed to be set. Harry had been pouting about that news since it had been delivered, his bad mood softened by the pain he was in.

 

Louis watched him scrunch his nose and shake his head to reject the food, placing it back on his food tray.

 

“Want me to get some chocolate?” Louis asked, perching on the edge of the bed to face him.

 

Harry shook his head again.

 

“Gotta get better,” he murmured; lips twisting wryly.

 

Louis smiled weakly.

 

“You'll be okay,” he promised.

 

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, fidgeting to comfort himself in the hospital bed.  “Thank you for helping me. And... _you know_ ,” he looked at Louis directly, bare of his usual make up, lips dry. “For coming with me.”

 

It felt strange to hear Harry so genuine for once. It was clear he'd been afraid when his horse lost control but _after_ that...Harry had begged _Louis_ to accompany him out of all of the crew. He didn’t quite understand a world where Harry wouldn’t be escorted and kept safe. He couldn’t imagine why he felt afraid of that not happening.

 

“Get some rest for a bit,” Louis encouraged.

 

Harry opened his eyes, the inexplicable colour capturing Louis' attention.

 

“I had fun today,” he shared, softly.

 

Louis huffed.

 

“Some kind of fun,” he mused.

 

Harry reached out and squeezed his hand.

 

“I’m not hurt. I’m ok. You promised,” he added with a little smirk.

 

Louis let the final dregs of his concern ebb away. He offered a tentative smile and was surprised to find Harry smiling back.

 

“Mr. Styles?” A nurse called him from the doorway, breaking the moment.

 

Louis let go of his hand and stood up while Harry shifted to get in the wheelchair that was brought in.

 

 

 

//

 

 

Harry had a medical boot.

 

It didn’t match his designer suits or his sparkly shoes but—

 

Louis watched him hobble awkwardly to centre stage.

 

“Hi! Hi everybody! Hello!”

 

It took longer than usual to get the clapping to die down.

 

“So yesterday we filmed a little piece off-set,” Harry shared with his crowd, who hollered excitedly. “Yes, that’s right, we're branching out,” he winked. “And to cut a long story short, I can’t ride a horse,” he joked.

 

The crowd laughed.

 

“Thought riding was one of my strong points if I’m honest,” he quipped with a smirk.

 

Louis swallowed.

 

“We thought I just twisted my ankle but apparently I broke a small bone in my foot so...” He lifted his hands in a wide shrug. “I’ll be like this for a few weeks.”

 

“Ahhhh,” the audience cooed.

 

“The piece we were filming was for our guest slot,” Harry went on; earning shrieks. “Louis will be coming on stage very shortly to show us his latest grill idea,” he added. “But can I just say,” he flapped his hands downwards in a quieting motion, little finger aloft. “He _did_ save my life.”

 

The crowd applause thundered through the studio, causing Harry to beam at them happily.

 

“After I fell, my horse reared and nearly trampled me but little Lou threw himself in the way to protect me and...well I could have gotten off much worse,” Harry shared, starting a clap. “Thank you to little Lou...”

 

 

Louis rolled his eyes. He thought he might actually prefer being called _Tiny._

 

“So, without further ado let’s bring the man of the moment out here...Louis Tomlinson everybody!”

 

Louis straightened his blue braces and brushed down his checked grey trousers, tucking his matching grey shirt in tightly.

 

He grinned as he waved into the blinding spotlight.

 

“Hey, hey,” he greeted. “How are you all?”

 

A loud cheer went up.

 

“Good, Good,” he pursed his lips.

 

“So Louis,” Harry gestured him to stand by him on the stage.

 

Harry tucked his foot behind his ankle and starred his fingers, swinging his hand girlishly by his side as he fluttered his dark lashes.  He was wearing a purple velvet suit tonight with a smart black boot on his good foot; the trouser leg tucked up to accommodate his cast.

 

“So?” Louis twisted to lift a brow at him; sliding his palms together.

 

“Do you want to tell the audience what we have in store for them tonight?”

 

Louis nodded, throat going dry as he twisted to squint at the autocue.

 

They’d practised this but it was terrifying out there in front of the live audience.

 

“I’m going to be showing you how to make my tasty vegetable skewers,” he began. “We’ve also got a little surprise in the form of an interview with none other than your host Harry Styles...conducted by me,” he smirked. “Get ready for those all important questions!”

 

“When are you two getting married?” one loud, very Irish sounding lady called from the audience, making them both splutter into laughter.

 

“Not this side of the next millennium,” Harry quipped, glancing at Louis who quickly looked away; smiling and waving at a fan in the crowd.

 

“Okay, let’s get on with some cooking shall we?” Harry moved to the counter for Louis’ segment; hitching onto a stool.

 

“You’re going to sit and stare at me?” Louis looked around for his blue apron with a concentrated frown. “Where’s my apron?”

 

Harry pointed to his red one hanging off the back oven.

 

“There's one.”

 

“That’s yours,” Louis rolled his eyes. “We all know how particular you are about your things...”

 

The audience chuckled and Harry glared at them.

 

“Don’t know what you mean.”

 

The last time Louis had worn Harry’s apron; Harry had called him _edible._ He tied the apron carefully on and twisted to fetch his ingredients from the back counter.

 

When he circled around to place them at the front; Harry’s gaze was somewhere around the backs of his thighs; sliding up to rest in a lazy blink against his crotch and looping up towards his tummy when Louis turned to him with a hitched breath.

 

“A little bird told me that you don’t eat a lot of meat, Harry,” Louis told him with a rasp in his voice that he hoped nobody recognised as desire.

 

“Hmm?” Harry’s lips pulled into a languid smile. “What was that, little Lou?”

 

Louis pursed his lips, stripping his vegetables ready for chopping.

 

“I liked Tiny better,” he admitted out loud.

 

“It’s condescending,” Harry murmured. “Sara from Manchester wrote me a _very_ long letter about it...”

 

Louis shook his head.

 

“Not sure _little_ is much of an improvement,” he argued.

 

“Well we all know it’s just a nickname,” Harry’s tongue circled his lips. “And not an _actual_ reflection of your, uh, size,” Harry winked.

 

Louis may as well have been injected with Viagra.  He tensed as the rush of blood to his groin made him dizzy. He began to sweat under the studio lights.

 

Did Harry think he was a good size? Had he satisfied him? Or was Ben bigger? Was he _better_?

 

Louis looked up to the stands as he cleared away his unused peelings.

 

“So, for those of you who don’t eat meat I wanted to make something really simple and tasty,” Louis said, swallowing hard. He flicked his eyes sideways to check on Harry and found him sat back on his stool, lips pursed as he blatantly stared at Louis' behind.

 

He nearly rolled his eyes at the desperation to gain viewers. Louis wasn’t the piece of meat they were grilling tonight and he didn’t deserve to be treated like a commodity.

 

“I love vegetables,” Harry told his crowd. “Have you tried grilled honeyed peaches?”

 

Louis almost chopped the tip of his finger off.

 

“Ah, no. Not tried that...”

 

“They’re all sticky and sweet and you can just slip your tongue over it and lick up the honey,” he smiled audaciously as Louis turned to arch a brow at him.

 

“Are you still taking morphine?” He wondered.

 

Harry laughed with a shake of his head, ringed fingers pushing his hair back apart from his pinkie which pointed outwards.

 

Louis couldn’t help but compare Harry's peaches to his ass and how much he'd quite like to lick the sweet stickiness out of _that_. Only Harry belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn’t present at the live shows but who seemed to have some kind of hold over the dark haired boy on the stool.

 

Louis had stayed with him at the hospital out of curiousity; watching through the window of the private room when Ben visited; Harry’s eyes continually searching for Louis outside when Ben’s back was turned and Louis didn’t know if Harry liked the thrill of chasing a guy and cheating on his boyfriend right under his nose; or whether there was more to it than it looked as Liam had suggested.

 

All he knew as he watched Harry eat his vegetable creation (tongue first) was that he wanted him; still. He wanted him up on the dresser; down on a fur rug or anywhere in between and that realisation was as startling as it was real.

 

He dragged his gaze away from watching Harry eat, licking over his own lips slowly.


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you ready?” Louis tapped his question cards against his thigh as Harry settled on the guest sofa, legs folded with his good food bobbing and his arms stretched out across the backs of the cushions. His suit jacket was flapped open; showcasing his mostly unbuttoned black shirt.

 

“Ready, Lou,” he promised softly.

 

Louis smirked.

 

“Harry, why don’t you tell the audience a bit about your chef training?” He asked first. “Bet there's at least one embarrassing story to be told...”

 

Harry slid his eyes sideways and pursed his lips.

 

“You little scoundrel,” he accused fondly, sighing dramatically. “Well, I suppose I could tell you about the time I was learning how to make pastry,” he broached. “And it was always too much butter, too rich so it didn’t rise,” he rolled his eyes. “ I put a tonne of raising agent in it to cheat,” he conspired. “I served up a souffle!” He lamented, to the laughing audience. “It took me three months to pass,” he added quietly.

 

Louis nodded, twisting his lips.

 

“Have your family always been supportive?”

 

Harry’s body language changed. He shifted forward and brought his hands to his lap; expression clouding before a mask was slipped into place.

 

“I consider myself very fortunate that I grew up with the means to pay for completing Michelin training,” he answered robotically.  “Although my sister still teases me because she makes a better roast than I do,” he smiled.

 

“My mum makes the best roasts,” Louis waved at the camera. “Hi mum.”

 

“She does,” Harry agreed with a hum. “Hi Jay,” he winked at the camera.

 

“Now, many of your audience members-“

 

“ _Our_ audience members,” Harry inserted with a smile.

 

Louis smiled back.

 

“Many people want to know what you look for in a partner,” Louis posed. “I’ve had several emails on my work website wanting to know exactly what it is that Harry Styles looks for....”

 

Harry engaged Louis with a solid stare; lips pressing together almost shyly if Louis would believe it. The response he’d expect; if they didn’t have to censor themselves, would involve how Harry liked _anything and everything_ and didn’t like to restrict himself to one type.

 

Louis blamed the painkillers for the response that Harry actually gave.

 

“Someone with a nice smile...natural...someone with a good sense of humour,” he shared, glancing at the audience as they began to yell.

 

“What?” Harry cupped his hand over his ear. “I can't—what are you saying?”

 

“Louis!” a crowd of three women jumped up and pointed towards Louis in unison.

 

Harry smiled bemusedly.

 

“You want to know what Louis looks for?”

 

“No!” They laughed. “Louis!” they repeated emphatically.

 

“O-oh,” Harry arched his brow, gaze sliding between the audience and the temporary host. “You think Louis has a nice smile,” he guessed.

 

They giggled and clapped as Louis felt his cheeks flush.

 

“I’m not funny,” Louis promised, combing his fringe away from his eye delicately. “Anyway I’m too short,” he added with a knowing smile.

 

Harry eyed him over slowly.

 

“I don’t recall ever mentioning a dislike for small people,” he rumbled throatily.

 

Louis’ heart tripped over in his chest.

 

“In fact I'd say the opposite...I'm actually quite _partial_ to the petite,” he assured.

 

Louis wanted to ask him _which gender_ but it shouldn’t really matter. The way Harry was smiling at him as though he was a wolf to Louis' lamb would have answered his question anyway.

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“I think that’s enough questions for one day?”

 

Harry smirked.

 

“One more,” he encouraged. “Make it special...”

 

Louis tapped his cards against his knee and laid them flat.

 

“What do you think we should do for next week’s show?” He asked bravely, lifting his brows.

 

Harry smiled at him curiously. Louis knew as well as Harry did that Ben made the executive decisions. And Louis may not have worked out their dynamic yet but anything they said on air would be guaranteed to happen for the sole fact the audience loved them both.

 

“I'd love to go to the coast and cook some seafood,” Harry expressed. “Maybe take a walk on the beach and go for a paddle...”

 

“This is a cooking show not Blind Date,” Louis teased.

 

“Do you like sea-food, Lou?”

 

Louis nodded.

 

“I do.”

 

“Can I cook some for you?”

 

Louis’ Heart slowed down to an almost painful thud, his eyes locking with Harry's.

 

“Alright,” he murmured airily.

 

Harry grinned.

 

“No paddling in your cast though,” Louis added as the audience began to applaud.

 

“See you next week!” Louis lifted his cards to wave goodbye.

 

//

 

“I can’t believe you!” Harry chuckled breathily as they tumbled into the corridor leading towards the dressing rooms.

 

“I only asked a question,” Louis shrugged.

 

“You’re naughty,” Harry accused him. “I like it.”

 

Louis laughed; pushing open Harry’s dressing room door to gesture him in.

 

“Careful getting changed,” Louis warned. “Don’t trip over your trousers.. .”

 

Harry’s smile turned filthy.

 

“Want to take them off for me?”

 

Louis opened his mouth to reply but he felt a body press into his, squeezing past.

 

“Harry, you got a moment?”

 

Louis narrowed his eyes at Ben as he effectively cut Louis off from his conversation.

 

“Louis was actually going to help me get changed,” Harry supplied coolly; staring at Ben with an unphased blink.

 

Ben glanced at Louis.

 

“You can run along can’t you, Louis?” Ben queried condescendingly and something suddenly made sense.

 

Harry’s gaze was already shuttered; fixed on the floor and his hands were shaking but not in the way they were when Louis kissed him and surged into his body. He looked like the tiny child Louis had walked out on after they'd fucked.

 

Louis stepped forward. “We’re actually going to see a film that starts in...” He convincingly checked his watch. “Half an hour.”

 

Ben looked back to Harry.

 

“Monday morning meeting then?” He asked and Harry nodded.

 

Louis frowned as the other man walked away.

 

//

 

“So , you’re actually dragging me to the cinema?” Harry grumbled lightly as they left the studio and strolled across the parking lot towards Louis' little fiesta.

 

Harry’s fingers unfurled the collar of his thick wool coat, more comfortably dressed in a pair of jeans with boots and the lilac jumper he’d worn for the shoot at the farm. They paused by the small blue car.

 

“You don’t have to go,” Louis replied, bemused. “Just seemed liked you didn’t want to talk to Ben back there so I gave you an out....”

 

Harry looked at him, sliding his hands into his coat pockets.

 

“We could go in my Landrover you know.”

 

Louis took that as confirmation that Harry wanted to see a film with him, after all.

 

“It’ll do you good to slum it,” Louis remarked, unlocking the passenger door and swinging it open to swoop a hand gesturing Harry inside. 

 

Harry rolled his eyes and folded up his long body to fit. He shunted the chair back on the adjustable rollers and folded his ankles while Louis got in and turned the motor over.

 

He felt Harry’s narrowed eyes on him as it failed to catch.

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go in mine?” Harry mused.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Louis turned the key once more, finally earning ignition. He smiled smugly. “See? Just needed warming up.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Harry murmured, pulling on his seatbelt and folding his arms tightly over it while Louis set the dials to blast out heat once the engine had run for a while.

 

“You're such a Princess,” Louis scoffed.

 

“Better than being broken down and freezing to death, “ he answered smartly.

 

Louis glanced at his profile while he stopped at a light.

 

“You think you could quit whining?” Louis asked.

 

Harry had seemed lighter after the interview and now—well now, he seemed a little surly and on edge. He seemed brittle.

 

“What are we watching?” Harry asked in lieu of apologising.

 

“What about a chick flick?” He suggested drily. “Seems right up your street.”

 

Harry turned his head to stare at him, Louis studiously ignoring his gaze.

 

“I was thinking more a good shoot-them-up,” Harry drawled. “I’m kind of in the mood to watch people die.”

 

Louis' lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

 

“Fine by me,” he assured.

 

“Fine,” Harry agreed softly, burrowing into his coat.

 

//

 

Harry fell asleep in the passenger seat on the way back to the studio lot, his Landrover amongst only a light sprinkling of cars which were left after midnight.

 

Louis didn’t want to wake him. He looked darling with his lips jutted and jaw clenched from grinding his teeth lightly, soft breathing soothing Louis' jangled nerves.

 

The film had been loud and unthrilling. Halfway through they’d snuck into another viewing, catching the end of a romantic comedy that earned a dimpled smile and a nose-scrunch from Harry at the sickly sweet happy ending.

 

Louis had brushed their arms together as they’d walked out and Harry had turned to him with a pensive look as though he might say something important. But he didn’t, he’d just mooched languidly back to the car and curled up to snooze.

 

And so there they were.  The closest Louis would get to watching Harry wake up.

 

“We’re back,” Louis announced, releasing his belt to reach across to squeeze Harry's arm.

 

“Hm?” Harry shifted but didn’t open his eyes. “What, Lou?”

 

“We’re back at your car, Princess,” he repeated.  “Unless you’d like me to take you all the way home?"

 

Harry’s eyes cracked open, his tongue curling as he yawned and stretched.

 

“All the way, hm, Lou?” He commented quietly, sleep-husked but still flirty.

 

Louis sat back in his seat, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel.

 

“If you want,” he murmured only.

 

Harry peeked at him and smiled, fingers tousling his hair as he sat up a bit to release his belt.

 

“Think I can manage,” he mused.

 

Louis nodded,  glancing over.

 

“See you Monday, then. For the meeting.” He added.

 

Harry hummed a bit, fingers hesitant on the door release. He looked at Louis one more time before he popped it, stepping out with his beautiful long legs.

 

“See you later, Lou.”

 

Louis breathed out as Harry lofted the door shut and made his way over to his vehicle. He waited until Harry was safely inside before restarting his car (only two tries required this time).

 

“See you,” he murmured to himself.

 

//

 

“What was it you asked about a dick on my tongue?” Harry mumbled as he unbelted Louis' jeans and rubbed the heel of his hand against the ridge there.

 

“I asked if you stick it out when you have a dick on it,” Louis whispered. “Fuck,” he added breathily as Harry nosed against his head through his jeans.

 

“You’re about to find out,” Harry promised, dragging down his own jeans and boxers and moaning in his throat.

 

“Your foot,” Louis frowned, sliding fingers into Harry’s hair to tug at it.

 

“All good,” Harry promised, taking Louis in his hand to stroke, slow then fast.

 

“Jesus,” Louis whispered.

 

If he came too soon he’d never live it down.

 

“Not small,” Harry tucked a knowing smirk into the corner of his mouth.

 

Louis looked down at him and regretted it when Harry curled his tongue out in exactly the same way he did when he was eating. It meant Louis would be forever turned on when they were eating.

 

If—

 

 _Not likely,_ he reprimanded himself for daring to believe it could happen.

 

“Oh, fuck, why?” He begged whoever was listening as the heavy weight of his arousal slid along Harry’s tongue.

 

Harry had dragged him into the damp little cave to suck him off; earnestly grateful for the chance to spend the day at the beach.

 

Louis had wanted to kiss him. Had wanted to band him tightly in his arms and press him up against the cave wall until they both came from it; lips numb from too much of it.

 

He didn’t think there _could_ be too much of anything with Harry.

 

But Harry hadn’t let their lips mesh; panting against his mouth and brushing dangerously close before slipping to his knees; settling his cast boot carefully in the sand.

 

“Thank you,” he'd simply said before unfastening his fly.

 

“ _Fuck_ , yes!” Louis clenched his toes in his sneakers; fingers tightening into the dark soft curls as Harry hollowed his cheeks and sucked him in; nearly all the way into his mouth.

 

It had been a delicious burn of satisfaction to know that Harry liked his size; liked his dick enough to want to French kiss it.

 

He just wished he had words instead of gasps and cries that melted into the crashing waves.

 

“Please,” Harry whispered hoarsely as Louis felt his control slip; sliding his heat against Harry’s cheek.

 

“What do you want, Princess?” Louis would give him the world.

 

“On my face,” Harry’s voice broke pleadingly. “Please, Lou...”

 

Louis slid out of his mouth; saliva falling thick and wet over Harry's chin as Louis began to twist his own hand around himself; eyes locking with Harry’s.

 

He cupped his jaw; thumbing at the bristle there and scraping his nail against the sharp spikes.

 

“Touch yourself,” Louis swallowed hard; voice purring.

 

Harry groaned and slid his hand into his jeans to follow the command. The thought of Harry finishing the day's filming in jizz-wet boxers had Louis gasping out as his head knocked back.

 

He aimed for his cheeks but he spurted over his eyelids and pretty lashes; splodges landing on his painted lips.  Louis wanted to smudge the colour off with his own but Harry hadn’t wanted that and he couldn’t force him into anything no matter how badly he might want it himself.

 

“Need a hand?” Louis asked as he smeared his come across Harry’s hot cheek.

 

Harry whimpered and jolted; his own release hidden from view. He pulled his hand carefully from his jeans and licked his palm, heel to fingertip.

 

His eyes met Louis’, latent and blown.

 

“Need more fruit,” he murmured after he swallowed; wiping the residue from his face.

 

Louis needed salvation.

 

Harry got up with Louis' help, smiling ruefully at his encumbered foot.

 

“Be glad when this goes...”

 

Louis brushed his thumb across Harry’s cheek one last time; wistfulness twisting inside him.

 

“Let’s get touched up,” Louis suggested of their ruined hair and make up.

 

It caused Harry to grin at him as he loped out of the cave; arm brushing Louis’ in a lingering moment.

 

“Think we've done enough of that,” he teased.

 

“Oh, there you are,” Ben walked up to them, causing them both to face him awkwardly.

 

“Just checking out a cave,” Louis supplied.

 

Harry stared at the other man.

 

“We'll get you back your trailer to get you warmed up, hm?” Ben reached for Harry’s hand.

 

Louis froze in place.

 

Harry’s fingers twitched but then he moved into the motion; letting Ben grasp his hand to lead him away.

 

Louis watched them go with a confused frown on his face.

 

//

 

“Are they dating?”

 

Louis sat down opposite Liam in the studio canteen.

 

The beach filming had finished around eight o'clock. Harry had cooked them hot fresh food on a disposable barbeque and they’d eaten from each other’s fingers but the intimacy from the cave had ebbed away.

 

Louis had deep down hoped that Harry might invite him back to his plush hotel room to lay on his bed together and tell stupid stories. The version of Harry he’d met that first day on set was not someone Louis had ever pictured himself opening up to but there was something infinitely fragile underneath Harry’s pompous exterior and Louis was determined to find out what it was.

 

Liam put his fork down with a sigh.

 

“I can’t tell you.”

 

“But you know?” Louis checked and Liam only nodded once.

 

“Is he being hurt?” Louis asked quietly; tummy tightening in anxiety over his worst fear- that Harry was in some kind on controlling relationship which he couldn’t escape and that his only freedom was to sleep with whoever he liked behind Ben’s back.

 

“I don’t know,” Liam replied honestly. “But it’s complicated,” He whispered. “Don’t push him on this.”

 

Louis pursed his lips with a nod.

 

“Alright,” he promised reluctantly.

 

He only had three more weeks until his stint was over. He couldn’t see Harry wanting to extend their fling beyond that considering the circumstances.

 

He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he waited to be called to hair and make up.

 

//

 

“What's  sizzling on the grill tonight, Lou?” Harry waltzed over to the counter with his boot; doing a little twist-style dance to the music that played.

 

Louis stuck his hand up to greet the audience.

 

“Everybody loves jacket potatoes, right?”

 

“Yes!” The chorus of replies made him smile.

 

“Well after your incredible sea food, Harry, I’ve been inspired to grill some hot shrimp,” Louis shared. “And I’m making my own lemon garlic mayonnaise to go with it.”

 

Harry lifted his brows in delight, pressing a surprised hand to his chest.

 

“I inspired hot shrimp?” He teased. “I have no idea how...”

 

Louis licked his lips quick and quirked a brow at the front row.

 

“Which brings me onto my next topic,” Harry lifted his cards expressively. “We have had literally thousands of letters from our viewers who want to date you, Lou,” Harry began.

 

Louis darted a look at him bemusedly.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Now, we’ve selected the top three based on looks, interests and location so we'll run through them now so you can pick your date for next week...because the winning guy will be invited onto the show to take you on an _actual_ date!” Harry revealed.

 

Louis tensed, swallowing as he twisted to catch Harry’s eye. Harry avoided looking at him, beaming at the audience instead.

 

“Uh...I'm not really up for-“

 

“Date number one,” Harry spoke over him; Louis drowned out by the baying crowd. “Is Michael from Leicester. He’s six foot two and a personal trainer, likes football and dogs and has his own speedboat,” Harry flipped his card to show Louis the photo which appeared on the studio screens.

 

“I’m not interested,” Louis told him firmly.

 

“Date number two is from your hometown of Doncaster. He races cars for a living and has beautiful brown eyes and he loves to cuddle. Meet Adam,” Harry showed him the next card while Louis glared at him, his heartbeat spiking.

 

“And last but by no means least is date number three, Lionel from London. He likes fish and chips and Vintage Cinema and can’t wait to take you to the theatre!” Harry enthused.

 

“Are you even _listening_?” Louis hissed.

 

“So who would you like to pick, Lou?”

 

Louis stepped forward and lifted his hand in a sharp motion; knocking the cue cards out of Harry’s hand with a growl.

 

“I don’t want to fucking pick any of them,” he enunciated. “You are _fucking_ unbelievable,” he muttered as he twisted to storm backstage.

 

//

 

“Lou, calm down would ya?”

 

Niall had been called after an hour of Louis yelling at anyone who dared come to his room.

 

The Irish man had slipped into the room to find Louis pacing back and forth, spilling outbursts of angry nonsensical words at every few turns.

 

“I will _not_ calm down! How fucking _dare_ they? How dare they do that without _asking_?” He raged. “It’s completely unacceptable! Not to mention _degrading_.”

 

“Lou, look a couple of fellas wrote in and said they liked ya. What’s wrong with that?”

 

Louis swung around.

 

“What’s wrong with setting me up on a date with a guy I’ve never met without asking me if it was okay?” He accused.

 

Niall swallowed.

 

“Is it because it was Harry who read the cards out?”

 

Louis twisted and swiped all the bottles and equipment off the dressing table with a roar.

 

He stood trembling by the dressing table; angry tears coming to his eyes.

 

“I’m done,” he rasped, walking over to fetch his things.

 

“Lou, come on,” Niall begged.

 

“No,” Louis dashed hot tears away with the back his hand; sniffling as he shouldered his rucksack. “I never was good enough anyway. Putting me in suits and blow-drying my hair,” he frowned with an emotional swallow. “Let them find another guy who meets their requirements. One who dates fucking strangers,” he added snidely before he pulled open his dressing room door; shouldering through the crowd of crew gathered there.

 

“See ya,” he called sharply as he stormed down the hall.

 

Niall stood up and sighed.


	9. Chapter 9

“Is Louis alright?”

 

Niall turned, expecting to find a crew member in the doorway. He double-took as he twisted to cast his eyes over Harry, the other man shutting the door behind himself furtively.

 

“Not really,” Niall answered honestly, meeting Harry’s gaze.

 

He could see why Louis liked him. He was a good looking guy. But he was also a guy who had hurt his best friend’s feelings and he didn’t know where he stood on that.

 

“He quit,” Niall told him anyway.

 

Harry’s nostrils flared.

 

“He can’t quit.”

 

Niall shrugged.

 

“Well, he did. “

 

Harry frowned, stepping closer.

 

“How do we get him back?”

 

Niall snorted.

 

“No offense mate but my friend's wellbeing is worth a lot more than your show ratings,” he stated.

 

Harry flicked his eyes away.

 

“He—never mind,” he swallowed. “It's more than that,” Harry promised.

 

Niall circled him.

 

“Why did you humiliate him like that?”

 

Harry turned with a cross pout.

 

“It wasn’t _supposed_ to be humiliating. It was meant to be fun.”

 

Niall walked right around him and came back in front of him; closer this time.

 

“Listen to the question,” he demanded softly. “Why did _you_ humiliate him?”

 

Harry’s eyelashes flickered and he stepped back, overbalancing a bit with his cast.

 

“I don’t know what you mean. “

 

“You’re taken,” Niall accused. “But you knew Louis liked you. So why would you, in front of a hundred people, spring this god- awful dating game on him and expect him _not_ to be hurt?”

 

Harry swallowed and looked away.

 

“You’re wrong.  Louis doesn’t like me.”

 

“Okay let me put it to ya another way,” Niall suggested. “You walk into work on Monday and your crush is sitting right by you in your meeting. The next thing you know he’s suggesting three other colleagues for you to go out with even though you didn’t ask. How do you feel?”

 

Harry stared at Niall like he wanted him dead. Niall stared back; lifting his brows expectantly.

 

“How do you feel?” He asked again.

 

“Jealous,” Harry murmured.  “Hurt... Rejected..”

 

“Right,” Niall nodded. “ _Now_ tell me to get Louis back,” he shook his head before he walked out.

 

//

 

He had always liked sweatpants and hoodies. They were warm and comforting  and –

 

Fuck it if he didn’t need some comfort.

 

He flicked on the TV, curling one leg under himself as he plopped onto the sofa; a full bag of M&M’s settled on the coffee table beside his beer.

 

 _Heaven_.

 

He'd turned his phone off two days ago. Had ignored his mother’s attempts to stop by. He'd even cut off Niall; not wanting to face anyone who was related to the show.

 

Louis quietly admitted to himself that he missed Liam and he wondered if they’d get to remain friends or if he'd lose him in some kind of twisted custody battle between himself and Harry.

 

He rolled his eyes at his own apathy.  They weren’t the closest thing to being married. Liam was of course free to see who he liked.

 

Louis opened his sweets and shoved a handful into his mouth.  He crunched three times before the doorbell went; his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

 

His fucking _Mum_.

 

He got up to stomp to the door to tell her to stop meddling; tongue flicking over his teeth the suck away the chocolate shells of his snack and that was how he opened the door; in his sweats with chocolate coating his teeth.

 

_Of course it could only be Harry on the other side._

 

Louis vaulted the door to slam it in Harry’s face but Harry stepped forward to shoulder it away; his long legs powering him into the porch where he captured Louis in his arms before Louis even had the chance to scream.

 

He opened his mouth to shriek but Harry leaned down and sealed their lips; scooping his tongue into Louis' chocolate laden mouth.

 

He moved their mouths together, arms tightening and breath hauled into his lungs through flared nostrils as his medical-booted foot struggled to keep balance.

 

Louis weakened against him and moaned in his throat; hands that had been pushing him away now grasping at his arms to hold him close.

 

Harry pulled away a moment later, licking his lips.

 

“M&M's?”

 

Louis nodded, setting him away.

 

“Don't kiss me,” he stated.

 

Harry looked at him.

 

“Why not?”

 

Louis’ anger kicked into action.

 

“Well there’s the fact you’ve got a boyfriend for one reason and how about the fact you’re an asshole?” He posed. “That counts for at least five reasons alone...”

 

“You only have six reasons not to kiss me?” Harry asked.

 

Louis glared.

 

“Go home to your boyfriend, Harry,” he accused.

 

Harry fidgeted.

 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

 

Louis snorted.

 

“Let me help you out here. His name is Ben, he’s your boss and oh; he likes to call you _Baby_ and he’s your _Daddy_ ,” Louis lifted his finger in memory. “You might recall he took you back to your trailer to _warm you up_ ,” Louis added acidly. “Any of this coming back to you, yet?”

 

“He's-Ben’s not my boyfriend, Lou,” Harry beseeched. “Nothing happened in my trailer.  Or any other time,” he added with a swallow.

 

“Nothing happened?” Louis mused. “Ever?”

 

Harry peered at him.

 

“Maybe- Maybe _once_ ,” he shared resignedly.  “And after that I didn’t want to again.”

 

Louis shook his head, eyes slipping over him. His stubble was growing; his hair was a soft mess like he’d dried it in a hurry. Where had he been before he’d rang Louis’ doorbell? Who had he been with?

 

“Was the dating game _his_ idea?” He asked since he had the chance.

 

Harry stared at him for a long moment before nodding; hesitant and small.

 

“You have to come back,” he whispered, his haunted eyes meeting Louis’.

 

Louis didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to go back to a place where he might be blind-sided and coerced into taking part in something that he had no interest in. Some small part of him had stupidly believed that he was _committed_ to Harry somehow; just because they’d kissed. Only Harry didn’t seem to agree. Harry seemed perfectly happy to pack him off with another guy with no qualms.

 

And Louis ached with jealousy at the thought of Harry with anyone else, so it hurt that Harry wasn’t even the nearest thing to being jealous at all.

 

But Harry _was_ affected. Louis could see it in the depths of his beautiful green eyes.

 

Louis didn’t know what made him do it. He reached forward to grasp Harry’s shaking hand. Looking into his eyes, he felt the physical burn from knowing his tremors were out of fear, but _what_ he was afraid of Louis wasn’t sure.

 

“Stay?” Louis whispered pleadingly.

 

Harry nodded and took a step closer before curling Louis into his arms.

 

//

 

“I don’t want to do the dating game,” Louis combed delicate fingers through Harry’s fringe the next morning.

 

They’d slept side by side after talking until dawn.

 

Harry had slept in his t-shirt and boxers; his plastic cast boot unfastened and rested at the side of the bed. Louis liked the way his ankle grazed the cast when their feet had tangled in the night. He liked that he was close enough to protect Harry from getting hurt again.

 

Harry swallowed, flicking his eyes to Louis'.

 

“I don’t want you to either.”

 

Louis paused, brushing the backs of his fingers against Harry's cheek where he laid over him slightly.

 

“You don't?”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

Louis wished that Harry could express _why_ he didn’t want him to but—he was _there_ and that was all that mattered.

 

“Don't surprise me like that again,” he pleaded; gazing into Harry’s eyes.

 

Harry lifted his hand to cup his jaw; angling him into a slow, sweet kiss.

 

Louis kissed him back; settling against him as they let themselves get lost in the moment.

 

“Do you like being called _Baby_?” Louis whispered against his ear, kissing his pulse point with a gentle suck.

 

“No,” Harry managed on a strangled voice.

 

“How about _Princess_?” Louis asked next, nipping his collarbone and lathing his tongue into the hollow by his shoulder.

 

“Hmmm,” Harry agreed, twisting with Louis in his arms to put him on his back so he could kiss him on the mouth.

 

Louis only pulled him closer as their tongues and bodies entwined. It was slow; but no less heated than before. Louis rolled them over to nudge between Harry’s thighs; pressing his wrists beside his ears and kissing him hard.

 

Harry responded with a moan in his throat; body curving up from the bed to brush against him. Louis peeled his t-shirt off and tenderly drew down his shorts; hands smoothing over supple pale skin before his hot kisses followed their path.

 

He wanted to spend forever just kissing him; earning his throaty cries and watching him get hard. He teased his fingers around his shaft, blue eyes darkened by desire.

 

“Like that?” He asked, with a swallow. They hadn’t talked much the first time they’d done this and Louis wasn’t sure Harry would like his words.

 

Harry nodded; legs shifting.

 

“Like it more when you’re inside me,” he husked.

 

Louis kissed him as he wrapped his fingers tight around him to stroke in sync with the rhythm of his tongue.

 

//

 

It was midday when Louis roused from sex-sated sleep; eyes casting over his bed-partner with a gentle reverent gaze before he forced himself to move

 

If Harry wanted to sneak out without the awkward post-sex confrontation then Louis wasn’t going to make him stay and eat lunch.

 

He took a cup of tea into the garage extension at the side of his apartment and sat at his familiar work-bench; his current piece causing him some issues.

 

He’d cut all the pieces of wood he needed to form the unique rocking-chair which he’d drawn the design for only last week; the curves and spindles requiring time and patience to get just right. He decided to work on the seat; planing a smooth surface and fetching his chisel to form the subtle shape where the owner of it would sit; dips for their thighs and butt carefully shaped into the base.

 

He denied that the chair was for Harry. Of course, he might be lying to himself since it was the hoity-toity rich boy who had put the image there at all; of him curled up in the large seat with his ankles crossed while he sang his soul-wrenching song.

 

_Gotta get better._

Louis began to hum the tune as he worked.

 

 

 

//

 

“Nice song…”

 

The deep, sleep-slow voice made him startle. He turned towards the door where Harry stood; dressed back into his jeans and boots and t-shirt; his coat folded over his arm as though he’d been in the process of leaving.

 

Louis swallowed; images of their morning rushing back into his mind. He ran his thumbs over the edge of the chair seat in petty memory of thumbing over the delicate cage of Harry’s ribs while he squirmed between his thighs. Louis could go without the flush of heat that accompanied the image of Harry spurting in his hand; sticky release coating his skin for him to lick off; the salty taste sweeter for the fact that it was Louis who had earned it.

 

“Someone sang it once,” he offered. “Kind of stayed with me.”

 

Harry pushed off the door jamb and stepped into the workshop, eyes going around the room. His hair was tamed into a soft mess; his fingers were bare of rings. Louis wanted to ask him why he only wore them on-screen but it wasn’t his place to ask. He was meant to be backing off; not getting _more_ involved. He watched as Harry rested his coat on the side; circling around to watch Louis work.

 

“What’re you making?”

 

“A chair.” _For you._

“What kind of chair?” Harry moved closer, peeking at the shapes scattered around him.

 

Louis lifted his chin.

 

“A rocking chair,” he explained. “I was just carving the seat, the spindles are over there and the-“

 

Harry’s fingers were threading into his hair.

 

“Sawdust,” the taller man swallowed; brushing away the fine wood carvings.

 

Louis smirked.

 

“Occupational hazard,” he murmured.

 

Harry settled his behind against Louis’ workbench where the back of the seat was set in the giant vice; the curve needing to be slowly bent into the stiff wood.

 

“Have you thought about the show?” Harry asked, venturing a hesitant look at him.

 

Louis’ heart thudded in sudden realisation; blue eyes fastening on green.

 

“Is that why you stayed?” He asked, standing up. He put the seat to one side.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Maybe?” Louis repeated incredulously. “You’re so—”

 

“What?” Harry leaned up, arching a brow, casting his hands out. “What am I Louis? Tell me, because it’s not as though I haven’t heard it before!”

 

“Then try harder!” Louis challenged. “Try not to be such a fucking dick all the time!”

 

“The show needs you Louis,” he beseeched. “And I happened to be the fall guy for the dating game, so what? I’ve done worse. And I’d do it again if I had to. So, what will it take to convince you? You want me to suck your dick again? Fine, unzip your jeans and we’ll get to it right now…”

 

Louis kicked his work chair away from behind himself and stormed to the connecting door.

 

“Just get out, Harry,” he exasperated. “You think I don’t know what this is about?” He added hotly. “You think I’m stupid enough to believe your lies? You’re so fucking scared of _feeling_ anything,” he accused. “And do you want to know what it’ll take to get me back?” He asked, enraged. “Hell freezing over, that’s what. Now get the fuck out of my house!”

 

//

 

 

Hell hadn’t frozen over.

 

Louis couldn’t explain then, why he was standing on stage under meltingly hot lights; preparing to take part in a cook-off with his nemesis, Harry Styles.

 

“Looking good over there, Tiny,” Harry pursed his lips suggestively; his cheeky charm setting on high for the audience’s benefit.

 

Louis may as well be in the Antarctic for all the good _that_ flirting was doing to melt his resolve. The truth was that his mother had talked him into coming back. It had nothing to do with Harry’s particular method of persuasion.

 

Lynne had dressed him in a fine paisley print silk mauve shirt with herringbone printed trousers and classic black braces. He’d left the collar undone but not enough to show much flesh. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves tersely.

 

“Concentrate on the task, Princess,” Louis returned to the devil in red beside him.

 

Harry’s suit was a bright red and his shirt was black with tiny white curls up the front. It was the perfect colour on him but Louis refused to acknowledge it. They both had to make the same dish today; measured head to head by a world-renowned chef whom Harry had been flirting with all morning.

 

“Marco, come and stand in my kitchen,” Harry purred at the other chef while Louis rolled his eyes.

 

Marco chuckled and helped Harry to chop his vegetables for the stir-fry they were both making.

 

“I feel like I’m choosing my favourite child in the divorce!” Marco joked.

 

“We’re not related,” Louis assured dryly from his counter.

 

“No, it’s more that I’m the child and you are the two divorcing,” he joked, earning the audiences laughter in return.

 

Louis looked into the crowd, wondering what was so damn funny. Had everyone picked up on the tension? Did they think he and Harry were fucking? That they’d had some kind of-

 

“Lover’s spat?” Marco enquired as he glanced between the two.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry hummed smoothly. “We’re nothing but professional on this show…”

 

“Professional _liars_ ,” Louis mumbled to himself.

 

Graham caught Louis’ attention from the floor. He gestured drawing a smile on his own face; lifting his hands upwards to signal that Louis need to lighten up. He pursed his lips and shrugged, sliding his chopped vegetables into his pan.

 

“What’s your advice then, Marco?” Louis looked over with a cool smile. “You know, when you’re mad at someone or they’ve ticked you off?”

 

Marco grinned at the audience.

 

“Don’t go to bed angry,” he recommended.

 

Louis snorted. He wouldn’t be going to bed with Harry ever again; let alone angry or otherwise.

 

“I better stay awake a while then,” he quipped; reaching for the prawns he was adding to his meal.

 

“How are you doing over here?” Marco shifted across the stage; resting his hand between Louis’ shoulders. The man was much taller than him and he had big hands and Louis felt small beside him; not something he was used to feeling despite his lack of height.

 

He smiled up at him genuinely.

 

“I’m doing alright I think. I don’t usually make this kind of food, if I’m honest…”

 

“What do you usually make?” Marco enquired, his hand slipping to the middle of Louis’ spine.

 

“Pub grub,” Louis admitted. “Love my meats.”

 

“A man after my own heart,” Marco smiled, meeting his gaze. “Perhaps they’ll invite me back when you’re making one of your own creations?”

 

Louis shrugged.

 

“I’m sure Harry would only be too happy to have you back,” Louis promised with a little flicker of a mischievous smile over his lips. “Wouldn’t you, H?” Louis called across the stage, leaning forward to source his whereabouts.

 

Marco’s hand slid into Louis’ lower back with the move. Louis didn’t bother to move it.

 

“Of course,” Harry’s brows were furrowed as he looked across at them; his green eyes trailing over them slowly. “Happy to,” he added with a press of his lips.

 

Louis beamed, twisting to smile at his new partner in crime.

 

“There we go, all sorted,” he told the other man.

 

“Perhaps we can get a drink after,” Marco added. “A toast to your accomplishments…”

 

Louis licked his lips and looked into Marco’s eyes; ordinarily only too ready to decline such an offer He didn’t like to lead anyone on and he certainly wouldn’t have wanted to present himself as available had he and Harry still had something. But they didn’t. So, he nodded his head.

 

“Sounds good,” he agreed.

 

//

 

When Louis slipped out of his dressing room into the corridor to meet Marco for drinks; the echoey strains of a familiar tune threaded into his subconscious.

 

Harry was listening to the song again.

 

_Maybe we’ll work it out._

He sighed. He didn’t think he and Harry _could_ work it out, they were too different and they wanted completely different things.

 

_Once you go without it, nothing else will do._

//

 

 

“So I said to him, what do you mean it's not cooked? It’s steak tartare!” Marco slapped his knee at his own joke, Louis tossing back some more arty beer to cover the fact he didn’t find the man in the slightest bit funny.

 

He managed to smile to cover his lack of humour.

 

“Well, I should be getting home,” Louis checked his watch. “Friend of mine is coming by to pick up some chess pieces I made for him…”

 

Marco brushed the backs of his fingers on Louis’ forearm.

 

“We could, you know…head back to my hotel if your friend can visit you another time?”

 

Louis swallowed.

 

“Uh…not tonight,” he excused quietly. “I really should get going.”

 

Marco pursed his lips, keen eyes flitting over Louis’ body.

 

“You are a nice little package, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

_Little Lou._

 

“Not lately,” he admitted awkwardly.

 

“I love a man in jeans,” he shared, slightly merry.

 

Louis stood up; not sure how to respond.

 

“Uh, goodnight, then…”

 

Marco stood too; leaning toward him for a hug. When he pulled Louis in, his hand smoothed down his back into the dip.

 

“Think about it,” the man murmured in his ear. “I’d take care of you.”

 

Louis nodded and tried not to dash to quickly to the exit.


	10. Chapter 10

The walk home was spent regretting every single life decision Louis had ever made which brought him there to that moment; caught in a mess of complicated lies and part-truths that were hard to distinguish.

 

He’d only agreed to Marco’s date because Harry had been watching. He’d only planned to be friendly with the man, not expecting him to genuinely find Louis attractive enough to want to date him. Apparently Marco wanted a lot more.

 

_I’d take care of you._

Harry hadn’t promised him that and yet Louis found his mind wandering back down a path it had no right going. Harry had made it clear that his motives were solely related to his show; that his interest in Louis had only been a temporary fascination and Louis had to admit, they were bad for each other.

 

All they seemed to do was fight.

 

_And make up._

“Fuck off,” he whispered to himself as he strode up the pavement that led to his apartment.

 

He began to slow down when he recognised something in the foreground. A shape; sat on the curb. A person. Harry?

His heart began to thump in his chest; making his breath catch.

 

“Harry?” He called, to check.

 

The person looked around. Fuck. It _was_ him. He looked beautiful cast half in lamplight and half in shadow.

 

“Lou,” he replied.

 

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked, coming closer to check he was alright.

 

His pupils looked huge and his lips looked dry; body teetering as he tried to hold himself up.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

 

“Are you okay?” Louis crouched by his thigh; lifting his wrist to check his pulse. It felt slow and heavy.

 

“No…No I don’t think I’m okay,” he said, frowning at Louis. “How did I get here?”

 

Louis opened his mouth in surprise. _Fuck_.

 

“I don’t know, Harry,” he sucked in a breath, keeping up the conversation. “Can you stand up?”

 

Harry slowly and awkwardly tried to coordinate his limbs; Louis helping him to stand up.

 

“What have you taken?” Louis asked seriously; brushing his fringe away when it flopped over his face.

 

Harry’s eyes blinked slowly; pupils taking over the green of his irises.

 

“Made me feel good,” his brows furrowed as his feet shuffled and he almost staggered if it wasn’t for Louis’ arms wrapped around him.

 

“Alright, okay,” Louis breathed out slowly. “Do you think you need a Doctor?” He asked instead.

 

Harry shook his head, trying to lick his too-dry lips.

 

“M’fine. M’going home, now…”

 

Louis shifted as Harry tried to twist away from him; his small feet planted on the outsides of Harry’s; carefully avoiding the cast on his broken foot.

 

“Think you better stay with me,” Louis decided.

 

He turned Harry towards his front door but when Harry almost tripped on the curb alone; Louis pressed up close to his back to wrap strong arms back around his middle.

 

“Take it easy, Princess…baby steps,” he suggested.

 

It took far too long to reach his door, but he let out a sigh of relief when they made it.

 

//

 

 “Thought you might spend the night with Marco,” Harry stretched himself long in Louis’ bed.

 

Louis had loaned him some sweatpants and a hoodie which only looked marginally too-small. They usually drowned Louis so they almost fit Harry perfectly. Louis didn’t like to risk him getting cold in the night. He’d Google’d the effects of several drugs but without knowing what Harry had taken, he was sticking to simple rules like giving him water and keeping him warm.

 

“Unlike some people I don’t fuck everyone I meet,” Louis quipped; certain that Harry wasn’t coherent enough to understand his accusation.

 

“I haven’t slept with anyone for a year,” he stated; idling on his side like a lazy cat. “Except you,” he added quietly.

 

“Oh?” Louis sighed. “No long-forgotten one-night-stands?”

 

“Nope,” Harry curled up a bit; fluffing his pillow.

 

“Try and get some sleep, Princess,” Louis pulled the duvet over him carefully.

 

“Too wired,” Harry twisted onto his back to tell him. “Lay with me?”

 

Louis hadn’t planned on staying. He’d planned to take the sofa. He eyed Harry for a long moment; sliding onto the bed to sit cross-legged by the bed head. More out of ensuring Harry went to sleep and didn’t choke on his own vomit or lapse into a drug-induced coma than out of _wanting_ to.

 

Harry's hand fell beside his knee as he curled over onto his front; fingertips stroking his thigh.

 

“So you didn’t go back with him?”

 

Louis sighed, knocking his head back and closing his eyes.

 

“No,” he murmured.

 

Harry tugged at the fabric of his pyjama pants.

 

“How come?”

 

“I don’t know, Harry, you tell me?”

 

“Did you kiss him?”

 

Louis opened his eyes and tipped his chin downwards. Harry twisted to look up at him; his palm finding a home around his knee.

 

“Where did you go tonight?” Louis asked him, avoiding the questioning Harry seemed intent to carry out.

 

“Out,” he mumbled. “Went to a club. Got given something pink,” he added.

 

_Jesus._

“Felt good,” Harry admitted. “My heart was beating too fast and I was dancing all night…”

 

“Not all night,” Louis’ fingers twitched in his lap and he let out a quiet breath of resignation as he lifted his hand to settle it over Harry’s hair; stroking gently.

 

“Don’t know how I got here,” Harry mumbled. “Just asked the taxi to take me home…”

 

Louis swallowed as Harry inched closer; tilting his head into his tender touch.

 

“Wanted to see you,” Harry added huskily. “Wanted you to feel my heart racing…”

 

“It wasn’t racing when I found you,” Louis commented; assuming Harry was coming down by the time he’d reached his house.

 

“Wanted you to feel what it feels like,” Harry said non-sensically.

 

“Think I can guess,” Louis mused as he unfolded his legs; dislodging Harry’s hand.

 

Harry frowned at him until he saw Louis manoeuvring himself into laying beside him. Louis tucked his arm around Harry's shoulders to cradle him slightly. Harry reached for Louis’ hand and studiously settled it on his chest; against where his heart was.

 

“Can you feel it?” Harry asked.

 

Louis brushed his cheek into Harry’s soft hair. He wished he _didn’t_ feel it, but his body reacted the same way it always did when he came close to Harry; as though fireworks were going off and drums were being beaten loudly.

 

“Yeah, I feel it,” he murmured.

 

“Is it fast?”

 

Louis rubbed his sternum over his jumper.

 

“No, Princess, you’re alright…”

 

Harry swallowed, lips pressed together in frustration.

 

“No, it’s racing,” he insisted. “Feels fast like it’s got wings and wants to take off…”

 

“It’ll feel better in the morning, Harry.”

 

Harry grasped his hand and dragged it up his chest; closer this time.

 

“You don’t understand, it’s always racing. When I’m with you it always beats so fast and when you were gone I didn’t feel it anymore; it didn’t feel good without you so I-I-“

 

“Shh,” Louis slipped his hand away from Harry's to shroud him in his arms. “It’s okay.”

 

Harry shook his head, making himself smaller.

 

“It doesn’t feel good without you, Louis,” he whispered.

 

Louis squeezed his eyes shut; his own heartbeat erratic. He made sure to comb his fingers into the back of Harry’s hair.

 

“It doesn’t feel good without you either,” he promised softly.

 

//

 

 

A beaming, lash-fluttering, _dainty_ Harry met Louis the next time he went to the studio.

 

They’d eaten breakfast together before Harry had left Louis’ place; soft kisses exchanged in parting. Louis didn’t know _then_ what it meant and he still didn’t as he walked into the meeting room to discuss the plan for this week’s show. He only had two weeks left of his guest-feature and he wanted it to end almost as much as he wanted it to _never_ end.

 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Harry smiled widely at him as he pushed the door open after knocking; Ben calling him in.

 

“Hi,” Louis flicked his eyes between Harry and Ben, lingering on the older man. “Ben,” he nodded.

 

Harry’s eyes flicked over Louis from head to toe; his lips pursing as his eyes lit and; his tongue curling in his mouth as he made a show of licking his teeth in appreciation when his gaze settle between his legs.

 

“Great jeans, Lou,” he finished by licking his lips.

 

“Thought they made me look homeless,” he smiled wanly.

 

Harry’s lashes flickered, his brow arched elegantly.

 

“Let’s just say I’m becoming a fan of the homeless look…” he murmured.

 

Louis settled in his seat, wiping his palms over the fronts of his thighs.

 

“So, what’s the plan this week?” He asked, avoiding Harry’s interested gaze.

 

Harry was wearing a pink shirt with his jeans and gold boots and Louis kind of wanted to haul him across his lap and kiss him right in front of Ben’s face. He wanted to smudge his mascara and kiss off the baby pink lipstick on his lips.

 

“Harry came up with a good idea before you got here,” Ben broached.

 

Louis did look at him then; gaze falling to his lean thighs; pressed together where his legs crossed; foot bobbing languidly.

 

“What was your idea, Harry?”

 

“To film in your workshop,” Harry replied. “Maybe you can show me how to make something of yours and when we get back to the studio I can teach you to make something of mine…”

 

Louis met his gaze. He could think of a few things he’d like to show Harry and his body ached with the curiosity of what Harry might have to show him and none of those things were to do with woodwork or cooking.

 

“Sounds good,” he answered raspily. “What day are we filming at my place?”

 

“Tomorrow would work best,” Ben suggested. “Think you can get it tidied up in time?”

 

“I’ll help,” Harry lifted an eager hand, fingers splayed.

 

Louis smirked.

 

“Bet you haven’t cleaned a single thing in your life,” he accused fondly.

 

Harry rolled his made-up eyes.

 

“Contrary to your belief, Lou, I’m not actually a spoiled, rich Princess…”

 

Louis couldn’t help his grin; eyes sliding over Harry’s legs once more.

 

“I’ll look forward to putting you to work,” he assured.

 

“Right then,” Ben cleared his throat from behind his desk, casting his eyes over both of them. “Studio shoot Friday as normal,” he added. “That’s all for now.”

 

Louis stood up with a nod; turning towards the door and holding it for Harry.

 

“Oh H?” Ben called as Harry stood up, slowly. “Can I have a private word?”

 

Harry looked to Louis and turned back to settle in his seat.

 

Louis shut the door quietly behind him.

 

//

 

 

He felt _incredible_.

 

Hot silk tight around him; quivering heat.

 

“Fuck,” Louis grunted it against the back of his neck; thrusting hard enough to knock Harry’s knees against the counter in his workshop.

 

Harry re-balanced himself; tucking his broken foot behind his ankle to protect it from the impact. Louis tightened the arm around his middle and flicked his hips. Harry’s cry was broken and weak.

 

Louis dug his hand into the back of Harry’s jeans which had barely made it past the bottom of his butt-cheeks; scooping the material down and yanking at it. Harry whimpered and tried to press his hands against the wall to buffer the motion of Louis thrusting hard.

 

“Give it to me, Lou,” Harry begged.

 

Louis gave him everything he had; stroking him in sync with his body. He couldn’t help the way his palm brushed firmly over his belly, heel first; or the way he needed to suck a sweet; bruising kiss into the back of his neck but Harry seemed to like it; he seemed to like it all.

 

“Want you to remember this,” Louis whispered; sinking into him and stopping to relish the quiver.

 

Harry rolled his hips to instigate some abrasion.

 

“Feel so good, Lou,” Harry panted, fingertips clinging to the counter for balance. “Make me feel it,” he begged.

 

Louis came after three more bruising thrusts; body jerking as he released his stickiness into Harry’s body; holding him tight as Harry came in in his hand. Their breaths were harsh and hot against the cool garage air; the mess around them untouched.

 

Harry trembled as Louis eased out of him and he watched as Harry brusquely dressed himself; tugging his jumper over his bared tummy; swollen lower lip bitten under his teeth. When he blinked, Louis could see that he’d achieved his wish. Harry’s eye-make up was streaked and his lip stain was only evident in faint glittery smudges over his jawline and cheek.

 

“If that’s what you do in here all day, sign me up,” Harry teased.

 

Louis stepped closer to cup his cheek; sliding an arm around his waist and pressing a tender kiss on his mouth.

 

“I want you for more than just what we do together,” he promised.

 

Harry stared at him with vulnerable eyes; shaky hand lifting to grasp Louis’ arm.

 

“Don’t ruin a good thing,” Harry whispered back.

 

And Louis knew not to push it but he wanted Harry to know; he needed Harry to know just what he meant to him.

 

“Stay over,” Louis begged. “Wake up here tomorrow.”

 

Harry shook his head with a swallow.

 

“It’s too risky, if someone sees-“

 

“You mean if _Ben_ sees,” Louis stepped back, hand dropping to his side. Harry’s fingers tightened around his arm as his brows forrowed.

 

“No, Lou,” he promised. “Ben knows,” he mused. “I’m not exactly subtle,” he added derisively.

 

“What did he want to talk to you about this morning?” Louis wondered.

 

Harry blinked, eyes flicking slightly away.

 

“Nothing,” he lied. “Come here and kiss me, Tiny,” his lips twitched into a becoming smile.

 

Louis hesitated; narrowing his eyes before allowing himself to be embraced; soft lips owning his in another consuming kiss.

 

//

 

 

Ben was at the location filming.

 

The first time he moved across to whisper into Harry’s ear; Louis hadn’t missed the way he’d patted his bum.

 

He’d gritted his teeth and pretended not to see it. Niall had found out about the workshop filming and was a saving grace for Louis.

 

His best friend kept making thinly veiled remarks about Ben’s Directing skills and brought Louis an Irish coffee after the touching incident.

 

Louis took great delight in showing Harry how to make a very simple doll’s house. He hovered over his shoulder; slid a reassuring hand over his side and even tied his hair back with one of his neckerchiefs when Harry began sawing. 

 

Harry looked relaxed in his plastic goggles with his boyish dimpled smile and ridiculous jewellery.  He looked far too dainty to be cutting wood but he completed each task easily.

 

He’d worn grey suit pants with a black stripe and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up; hair styled gently away from his face.

 

By the end of it he looked like a kid at Christmas; unbearably proud of his creation.

 

“Look Lou!” He showcased his box.

 

Louis nodded and grinned.

 

“Good job Princess. Is it big enough for all your Barbies?”

 

“No, I want a bigger one,” he confessed. “But I still love it.”

 

“I’ll make you one,” Louis offered easily.

 

Harry smiled bemusedly; cradling his box.

 

“You’re busy,” Harry excused. “They sell them in Harrods...”

 

Louis moved to his work counter and opened a drawer, tugging out a rather worn clip file; opening it up as he walked back towards Harry; flicking the plastic sleeves filed in it with pages.

 

“Show me what you like,” he murmured, “Ah! Here’s one I did...”

 

Harry put his box down and took the folder; eyes staying on Louis.

 

“This one had six rooms,” Louis was pointing them out. “We could make yours into a castle if you wanted...”

 

Harry stared at him until he clicked.

 

“What?” Louis asked, then seemed to realise himself. “Oh! Oh shit yeah,” he smiled sheepishly. “Job to do,” he rolled his eyes. “We'll talk shop later...”

 

“So here’s my house,” Harry said to the camera, lifting up his box. “And when we get back to the studio Lou is going to try his hand at filo pastry, ladies and gentlemen.. .”

 

Harry giggled at Louis' horrified expression.

 

“I’m sure it’s easier than cutting wood,” he added.

 

Louis shook his head.

 

“I’m sure it’s not,” he murmured as Harry beamed at the camera.

 

“See you back at the studio!” He waved; waiting for Ben to call cut.

 

//

 

“Good job, H,” the older man stepped into the filming area to pick up the box. “My daughter would love this.”

 

Harry stared at him.

 

“I wanted to take it home,” he expressed with a swallow.

 

“Here have mine,” Louis quickly offered Ben his toy.

 

“Hey what do I get?” Niall joked as he joined the three of them.

 

“How about the full garden furniture set I made for your wedding?” He mused.

 

Harry’s face lit up.

 

“You made him garden furniture?”

 

Niall grinned.

 

“You should come and have a look,” he invited.

 

“Can we bring the crew?” Ben interrupted.

 

Niall flicked him a cool look.

 

“Don't remember inviting you,” he murmured.

 

Ben lifted his brows and cleared his throat; shifting to press his hand against Harry’s lower back.

 

“Can I borrow you for a minute, H?”

 

Harry nodded and followed Ben into the kitchen.

 

//

 

“Oh.” Louis stopped dead in the doorway to the kitchen. He'd only gone looking for Harry after ten minutes of him not coming back.

 

Long enough to make a drink and use the toilet and finish any work conversations.

 

Why was Ben leaned suggestively into Harry’s space; hands on the counter beside Harry’s sides, then? Why did Harry dart him a fearful look?

 

If they truly _weren’t_ dating then just what _was_ the situation? Louis still didn’t know.

 

“I’ll um,” he thumbed over his shoulder, twisting with a sigh.

 

“No, you don’t have to go,” Louis heard Harry assure him; boots clipping on his kitchen tiles. “We’ve finished talking.”

 

“So I can see,” Louis muttered as he turned.

 

“Great job, Lou,” Ben patted him on the back as he passed. Louis returned his eyes to Harry.

 

“What’s going on?” He asked honestly.

 

“Nothing,” Harry frowned. “Nothing's going on. I told you.”

 

Louis gave him a rueful smile.

 

“That wasn't nothing,” he pointed to the counter where Harry had just been stood.  “And the man had his hand on your ass, Harry,” Louis accused.

 

Harry blinked at him dismissively.

 

“You’re not my boyfriend,” he said.

 

Louis let out an unamused “Hah!”

 

Harry stared at him.

 

“Don't make this difficult,” he warned.

 

Louis walked up to him and brushed the backs of his fingers over Harry’s bare wrist.

 

“I’m not trying to make it difficult,” he murmured. “I’m trying work out why you keep fucking me when there seems to someone else in the picture...”

 

“He’s not,” Harry promised. “In the picture.” He added.

 

Louis took a deep breath for courage, Liam’s words ringing in his ears.

 

“Then why was he touching your ass, Harry?” He asked honestly.

 

Harry’s lashes fluttered and he swallowed hard.

 

“It’s just a show thing,” he murmured.  “Everyone does it. “

 

“And your boyfriends are okay with that?” Louis checked.

 

Harry’s lips pursed; still stained, proof that he and Ben hadn’t been kissing at least.

 

“I told you, sweetheart. I don’t have a fixed partner. I pick and choose whoever pleases me...”

 

“Hey, Lou, where are ya?” Niall’s voice preceded his presence in the room. “Oh, there ya are. Hey, Harry.”

 

Harry’s eyes flicked to the other man.

 

“Hello, Irish,” he greeted smoothly before shifting away from Louis' proximity to slip away.

 

Louis looked at his friend once Harry left the room.

 

“Don't tell me what an idiot I am,” he begged.

 

“Why would I tell ya that?” Niall wondered.

 

Louis twisted his lips and sighed.

 

“Because I just found Harry with Ben in here,” he admitted softly; meeting Niall’s gaze reluctantly.

 

Niall hummed, eyes shifting to the doorway where Harry had just disappeared.

 

“Were they kissing?” Niall asked.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Why do you always ask me that?”

 

“It’s an important question, Lou,” Niall defended.

 

“No, but they looked…you know…close.” He shrugged awkwardly.

 

“Close?” Niall echoed. “Pretty sure they weren’t as close as you when you were fucking him,” he quipped.

 

“What do I do?” He beseeched.

 

“Have you asked him?” Niall posed, wandering around the kitchen to open the fridge and helping himself to a soda.

 

“Asked him what?”

 

“If he wants something more,” Niall snorted.

 

Louis frowned. “He just told me two minutes ago that he doesn’t do committed relationships.”

 

Niall slugged back some of his sugary drink.

 

“Maybe he didn’t before,” he considered. “Maybe it’s different with you.”

 

“He knows how I feel,” Louis argued.

 

“You haven’t asked him,” Niall stated, looking at him pointedly.

 

Louis took a deep breath.

 

“No, I guess I haven’t.”

 

Niall smiled like he had just come up with the answer to world peace.

 

“Ask him.”


	11. Chapter 11

“So Lou...let’s do the Hot Five while we're constructing our pastry baskets...”

 

Louis was struggling with his filo. It was far too fiddly and fernickety for his calloused fingers and he'd rather be beating someone’s brains out than painting egg on strips of impossibly thin pastry. They were filming an extra studio scene for the final show, Harry teaching him the art of fine dining. 

 

 “Fire away,” he invited.

 

“Thought we’d coaxed you out of the fire tendencies,” Harry quipped with a gleeful smirk.

 

Louis licked his lips and traced his eyes down Harry's chest to rest on the front of his gold glitter trousers.

 

“You’re on fire every week, Harry...”

 

Harry lifted an interested brow.

 

“Well, we both like it hot,” Harry remembered. “How very convenient.”

 

Louis flicked him a genuine grin.

 

“Am I as hot as Michael?” He asked. “The guy you tried to steal from his wife, Evelyn?”

 

Harry laughed with the crowd.

 

“You’re by far the hottest man we’ve had in this studio,” Harry promised silkily. “Wouldn't you agree?” He asked his crowd.

 

A loud ‘yes!’ went up.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Don't try and sell me off to the highest bidder...” He accused warmly.

 

“Oh no, little Lou...” Harry wandered to his station. “I want you all for myself...”

 

Louis looked up with a confused frown as Harry gently brushed his fingers away from his sloppy mess; fixing his pastry quickly and efficiently.

 

The crowd were going wild with Harry’s claiming words and Louis wasn’t sure what to do about the topsy-turvy feeling in his tummy.

 

“Maybe I can woo you with my filo,” Louis muttered to cover his shock.

 

“I doubt it,” Harry smiled.

 

He twisted and sashayed away at that, blowing Louis a kiss across the space. Louis rolled his eyes and caught it, tucking it into the pocket of his apron.

 

“How about dinner, then?” Louis’ heart caught in his throat as he let the words tumble out of his mouth unguarded.

 

He watched as Harry pinched his own pastry parcels into neat, pretty shapes; his fingers pausing as he glanced up, lips pursing in interested curiosity, almost. He seemed piqued at Louis’ bravery. Louis tried not to focus on the way his tongue slipped over his coloured lips.

 

“A date, hm?” Harry posed; his brow arching in challenge.

 

Louis could swear his heart was ricocheting off the walls of his ribs inside his chest cavity; bouncing harder than a squash ball.

 

“Well, if you wanted to define it that way,” Louis tried to pull off a nonchalant shrug and failed.

 

Harry’s eyes sparkled when they met his; lips tugging up in one corner in that devastating way they always did. He turned to slide his tray of baking goods into the oven.

 

“I believe I may have a free evening in my diary,” Harry glanced at the audience with a wink, popping up from his oven with his mitts on.

 

Louis swallowed; the suddenly quiet audience collecting their attention from Harry to Louis.

 

“Is that a yes?” Louis checked; trying to force his usual brashness about his question but feeling like his legs were suddenly made of jelly wasn’t helping him to pull it off.

 

“It’s a yes, Lou,” he confirmed.

 

The noise was indescribable but Louis didn’t hear it; eyes fixed in one spot and trying to work out the reasons behind Harry’s agreement.

 

He looked impossibly endearing with his outrageous glitter suit and the plastic protective boot stuck on his foot. He looked a bit like he had when he’d presented his doll house; proud at his apparent achievement of saying ‘yes’ to Louis since it was earning them rapturous applause.

 

Louis looked away from the dimples and the sparkle in Harry’s eyes which almost matched his suit. They’d been back and forth so many times that his neck would hurt if he’d been watching it unfold but another meal wouldn’t change any of that. It also wouldn’t change how he already knew he felt. He didn’t know what Harry’s ‘yes’ really meant, but for once, he wasn’t weighing himself down with the need of knowing.

 

“You do realise there’s no gourmet budget with me, Princess,” he remarked as the whooping and hollering died down.

 

Harry shrugged, sliding off his gold glittered jacket.

 

“I’ll look after you, Lou,” he promised, carrying the jacket across the stage to rest it over Louis’ shoulders.

 

Louis looked up at him; their eyes fixing in a momentary locked stare.

 

“Of course you will,” he swept his eyes away from the green pair holding him hostage. “Better make sure your pastry isn’t burning,” he added with a smirk.

 

Harry pirouetted back to his station; cast boot elegently dragged along with him.

 

 

//

 

“What was that all about?” Harry smiled softly at Louis as he buttoned up his wool coat; both of them stepping into the cold air outside the studio.

 

“Hm?” Louis feigned ignorance to his question.

 

“You’re very naughty,” Harry accused lightly. “Asking me out when I couldn’t say no…”

 

Louis nibbled on his lower lip. _Busted._

“You can say no,” he frowned. “I’m not going to force you into it.”

 

“You want to see what dating me is like?” Harry lifted his brows in question.

 

Louis glanced at him.

 

“I kind of already know,” he commented.

 

Harry reached out, fingers splayed waiting for Louis to link their hands.

 

“I’m not a good person to date,” he countered honestly once their hands were joined.

 

Louis couldn’t deny the part of him that agreed with Harry’s statement. Harry had done many things which proved he _wasn’t_ a good person. But Louis also couldn’t deny the _other_ part of him that ached to protect Harry; the part of him that wanted to kiss him and fuck him and hold him after. The part of him that knew that the bad things Harry _did_ weren’t a sign of him actually being a bad _person_.

 

Louis lifted his hand to let Harry spin in a pirouette when he twisted to do so.

 

“You’re happy tonight,” Louis noted.

 

 Harry grinned.

 

“I am.”

 

“Is it because you only have to put up with me for one more week?” He asked suspiciously.

 

“Nope,” he smirked.

 

“You signed a big celebrity?”

 

Harry made a face.

 

“Think closer to home...”

 

“You got a new show?”

 

Harry laughed, pulling Louis aside where he clumsily pressed him into the wall to lick into his mouth in a quick and hot kiss. He cupped his face to deepen it; body slotting into Louis’ like it was perfectly made to fit and Louis moaned at the perfection of how he felt in his arms; mouth on his and body pressing against him like he couldn’t get enough.

 

Being desired by Harry was arousing. It was exhilarating and wild. Louis tucked fingertips into his hair and gently scissored them to tug softly at the roots.

 

Harry weakened against him and kissed him harder.

 

“I’m happy because the world knows I’m going on a date with you,” Harry shared with a flick of his lips at the corner, creating a lopsided smile. “The question is, are you?”

 

Louis coaxed him back into a softer kiss; wrapping him closer in and keeping him warm.

 

He couldn’t answer out loud because Harry might change his mind tomorrow; or the next time Ben wanted to talk and Louis didn’t want to think about that.

 

He broke the kiss with one last tender press against Harry's lips.

 

“Let me show you how the poor kids do it,” he murmured as Harry stepped back to straighten his hair.

 

//

 

 

The image of Harry bucking his hips to take Louis deeper inside himself would forever be burned into the back of Louis’ eyes.

 

It was there with surround sound of the happy gasps he’d sucked into his lungs and the throaty cries of pleasure he’d given out.

 

It was there with the heat of him; the remembered weight of his body and his kisses. With the pretty flex of his tummy muscles.

 

Louis was still kissing him; incapable of stopping.  Harry was curled beside him; soft with sex and sleep. Louis didn’t want to let the moment go.

 

“Think I like sleeping with a guy from the wrong end of town,” Harry murmured; pressing his smile against Louis' ribs as he rolled forward to hide.

 

Louis chuckled, fingering his hair.

 

They’d eaten burgers at his favourite Bar and Grill and Harry had begged for Baskin Robbins after. The way his dimples had spread into his cheeks, Louis couldn’t have denied him.

 

And now he got to kiss him as much as he’d like.

 

“You think you’d like being mine, Princess?”

 

Harry nestled closer with a hum.

 

“Boyfriends?” Louis wondered.

 

Harry rolled onto his back with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“Let’s start with dating and see how it goes,” he suggested.

 

Louis tried not to let his heart sink too far. He wanted to try dating but be couldn’t help yearning for more.

 

He left lingering kisses on his lips.

 

“What’s up with you tonight?” Harry teased. “All this sweet stuff...”

 

Louis smirked.

 

“That’s called dating, Harry...”

 

Harry rolled on top of him; pinning him down with his long body.

 

“Think I could get to like dating,” he smiled the kind of devastatingly dirty grin that made Louis’ heart skip.

 

He pictured himself kissing Harry for the foreseeable future and found his heart taking flight at the idea.

 

 

//

 

Louis gave Liam an extra long hug; missing him between the studio filming breaks.

 

“Get your number in my phone,” Louis told him as he handed it over. “You should meet my friend Niall and come and hang out with us...”

 

Liam beamed.

 

“Awesome...here you are...”

 

Louis took his phone back and sent him a text. He looked around furtively before shuffling closer.

 

“Harry won't tell me what’s going on with Ben,” he shared quietly. “But something is definitely going on...”

 

Liam stared at him.

 

“Louis, this isn’t something you should get caught up in. It's—its bigger than you and it’s bigger than Harry. You could cost him his job.”

 

Louis froze, brows furrowing.

 

“That’s what he’s doing?” He asked. “Threatening to ruin his career?”

 

Liam gulped.

 

“Not _threatening_ as such just-“

 

“Gentle suggestion,” Louis guessed. “Does he grope all of the staff here or just the pretty ones?” He added bitterly.

 

He didn’t expect the very quietly whispered;

 

“Just Harry,” to slip from Liam’s lips.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“Louis don’t say anything,” Liam grasped his arm. “It's not worth it. Harry chose this life,” he assured. “He knows how things work.”

 

_How things work?_

 

Louis was nearly sick down his dark blue suit; textured braces to match. Lynne had made his hair look incredible tonight, too.

 

“I won’t say anything,” he promised.

 

Liam sighed in relief.

 

“Just--enjoy it Lou,” he urged. “Enjoy it while you can.”

 

Louis was pretty sure the only thing he might enjoy; was punching Ben out

 

//

 

 

“Have you seen Twitter?”

 

Darcy strode up beside Harry who was leaning his hip against his dressing room table while Louis sat on the sofa reading a cookbook he’d found; hoping to memorise the method and ingredients for his meal today.

 

He lifted his head at her urgent tone.

 

“No,” Harry replied with an eye-roll. “Been busy.”

 

Louis looked over the back of the sofa and swallowed and looked away when Darcy shot him an accusing stare.

 

“I thought you said we were all professional on this show?” She queried coolly.

 

Harry laughed, loud and stark.

 

“Sweetheart, I pay your wages. Let’s not walk down that road, hm?”

 

Louis felt sick at hearing the condescending endearment he’d hoped had been lost, somewhere. _Sweetheart_. Did that mean Harry had fucked her, too?

 

“Take a look,” she poked her phone at Harry and flicked the Twitter feed so that he could scan the comments.

 

“There’s a worldwide trend,” he frowned, flicking his eyes towards Louis.

 

Louis twisted a bit to look back over the sofa at him.

 

“What’s the hashtag?”

 

Harry sucked his lower lip, brows furrowing.

 

“Larry,” he breathed, tongue flicking out to lick his lips artfully. “Louis and Harry equals Larry…”

 

Louis choked, brows rising.

 

“What?”

 

Harry’s face morphed into a smirk.

 

“I see it’s mostly my name that’s been used in our partnership,” he goaded.

 

Louis stood up.

 

“One letter?” He huffed. “One measly letter of my name?”

 

“I think you are both missing the point,” Darcy went to take her phone back but Harry jerked it away, scrolling further into the timeline.

 

“What’s the point?” Louis folded his arms.

 

“That this is creating so much interest! Your on-screen chemistry is incredible…you need to keep that up today. A little flirting, a little fighting like usual…”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m not even an equal partner in this ship,” he huffed.

 

“Fuck…” came Harry’s soft; low curse and Louis felt awareness prickle his skin. Harry would use that exact same tone when he—

 

“There’s pictures of us together, Lou,” he pointed the screen towards Louis where an indistinct graphic of the pair of them entwined together in bed was depicted. “These are so hot,” Harry added with a happy grin as he thrust the phone back at Darcy and pulled out his own. “I need to save them for posterity…”

 

Louis pursed his lips and bit back a chuckle.

 

“If there’s any you think I’d like…” he hedged quietly.

 

“Holy _Jesus_ ,” Harry choked, fingers tucking into his fringe and tousling his curls.

 

Louis swallowed; a throbbing starting in between his legs.

 

“Maybe we can look together later, Princess,” Louis suggested raspily; adjusting his shirt where it suddenly felt itchy against his chest.

 

Harry’s eyes lifted from the handset slowly; lashes darkened and lips licked red.

 

“Mmm, I think we should,” he promised in a deep voice that Louis felt lace its way hotly to his hardening dick.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” it was Louis’ turn to whisper the expletive; eyes dark as they flicked over Harry’s fitted suit; a baby blue sparkly material accessorised with pink diamantes.

 

Harry’s look told him he'd be happy to follow that command.

 

“Darcy, I’ll need a moment,” he cleared his throat, eyes flicking from Louis reluctantly to land on his assistant.

 

“But H-“

 

“I’ll just be a moment,” he assured with a breathy insistence; guiding Darcy towards the dressing room door. “Run along now, be a good girl…”

 

Louis would have reprimanded him for being rude if he wasn’t straining against the front of his own tight trousers; a complimentary midnight blue.

 

“Touch me,” Harry commanded gruffly as Louis walked towards him steadily. “Anywhere,” he begged on an intake of breath when Louis reached him.

 

Louis palmed the front of his zipper audaciously; bumping his back against the door.

 

“Might rip the seams of that jacket;” he warned huskily.

 

Harry reached up to grasp long fingers in the back of his hair.

 

“Stop making promises you can't keep…”

 

Louis kissed him. He pressed him into the door and flicked his tongue until Harry’s found a way to flick back; rippling against his. Their teeth were hard; sharp and got in the way when they tried to kiss harder; tried to get closer; close enough to climb into each other almost.

 

Harry’s cry was desperate; high pitched and begging. Louis spread his other palm over his ass; dragging the heel of his right hand over the thickness formed in Harry’s trousers. He didn’t ask what Harry wanted; he just tugged at his shirt to pull it from the band of his trousers and pinned him back against the door hard enough to hear the silk lining of the jacket rip.

 

“Harder,” Harry begged; a command Louis was getting used to hearing and was only too happy to obey.

 

“Gonna come like that?” Louis asked; pressing himself against Harry’s thigh when Harry alternated their legs to arch his hips up; using Louis’ thigh for friction. For his dick or his ass, Louis wasn’t sure but he couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to find out.

 

Harry was whimpering in his throat as Louis cupped the back of his head; shunting hard against him.

 

“Not even going to let me touch you?” Louis breathed the words against Harry’s throat; marking the skin with a sucking kiss. “Touch you through your silk trousers, mmm?”

 

Harry nodded, gasping in air as his pupil-blown eyes struggled to focus.

 

“Lou—”

 

“Shh,” Louis pressed his finger over Harry’s swollen lips as Harry squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed; brows furrowing with the pleasure-pain of Louis’ body grinding against his in a deliciously tantalising way. “Just let it all go, Princess…”

 

Harry scrabbled to get his hands underneath Louis’ shirt hem; one hand flattening against his chest and bringing the shirt taut with the stretch while he pressed Louis’ other hand over himself more firmly; dragging the painfully hard touch over himself slowly.

 

“Like _that_ ,” he whispered; dick quivering under Louis’ wrist. “Want fingers in me too…”

 

Louis unfastened his trousers easily; releasing his heat into his hand, still shrouded by his boxer-briefs but he was too busy sucking his fingers to worry; slipping the semi-wet digits into the back of Harry’s shorts to circle his rim.

 

“Get yourself wet next time,” Louis whispered. “Slip them right in if you like that…”

 

Harry groaned; lights flashing behind his eyes as they kissed again; dick squeezed tight in Louis’ hand while his fingertips teased his rim.

 

“You,” he panted; in sudden remembrance.

 

“Told you to shush,” Louis kissed his jaw.

 

When Harry kissed him back this time, it was sweeter. More urgent and desperate. It was like it was the last time they’d get to kiss like this; to touch hot skin and get high on desire. It was like the last time Harry’s breath would catch in tiny, delighted gasps; body jerking seconds later to spill wetly over Louis’ hands. It was like it was the last time that Harry would nudge him off his own precipice into the dark waves beneath; riding the crest together.

 

Louis stilled; dick pressed hard against Harry’s muscled thigh as he tumbled in the squall. His chest felt incredibly tight as he tried to draw breath.

 

They pulled apart shakily; eyes clinging darkly together as they delicately observed the state of their clothes.

 

“We’re fucked,” Harry admitted hoarsely.

 

Louis could only smile in reply.


	12. Chapter 12

“Good evening everyone…hello, hello,” Harry waved to his audience, cheeks slightly flushed despite the foundation which had been applied in a rush.

 

Darcy was not amused. Liam had laughed loudly as Louis had tiptoed out in search of another outfit. Luckily nobody else seemed to know anything of what went on.

 

“Evening!” the crowd roared back.

 

Louis watched carefully from the corridor; the screen showing Harry’s opening speech. He’d got changed into a another pastel blue design while Louis found a blue-grey trouser suit and white shirt in his room to change into.

 

Harry had yet to see him after their liaison.

 

“I’ve heard today from my beautiful and talented assistant, Darcy, that there’s been a trend on Twitter for the show…”

 

Shouts of ‘Louis!’ started up in the crowd. Harry laughed, perfect teeth flashing and his smile turning a tad crooked.

 

“Yes, for me and Louis,” he acknowledged. “That was very naughty,” he pursed his lips happily; not too bothered by the naughtiness, apparently. “But I like it,” he added with a wink, twirling around. “Anywaaaay…”

 

The audience laughed and cheered; earning another wink.

 

“Okay, alright,” Harry gestured for them to calm down. “Tonight we’re making a date meal,” Harry shared. “Something that we’d both make if we were inviting someone over for dinner and trying to impress them…Lou’s been sat with a cook book all day which I think is cheating,” Harry teased. “But since I have four Michelin stars on him, I’m willing to let it go this time…”

 

Louis rolled his eyes at the joke.

 

“So let’s bring out my favourite dwarf, shall we?” Harry suggested. “And I’ll be Snow White,” he added with a grin as he gestured to the arch where Louis would arrive.

 

Louis stood frozen to the spot; eyes glued to the television.

 

“Louis, you good?” Liam prompted him as the crew hovered in the corridor.

 

Louis swallowed; his heart thumping in his chest. He felt sick; like when he had to take a penalty in a football game or present his wooden art personally to a buyer. He felt like his whole world was crashing down in the same moment he was growing wings and taking flight. Louis looked at the screen; at his Snow White and he knew; he knew without a doubt that he’d gone and done something very, very stupid.

 

He had fallen in love with Harry Styles.

 

And he had no means to make Harry love him back. None at all.

 

“Lou?” Harry’s voice came from the stage. “Don’t be scared, Tiny,” he teased. “I won’t bite…”

 

Louis heard the audience chuckle and rubbed his palms together; remembering the heat upon them earlier; the firm squeeze of Harry's ass and the burning throb of his shaft. How could he go out there and pretend it didn’t matter? It didn’t matter to Harry, he was soldiering on as though nothing had changed.

 

Because for him, nothing had.

 

He registered the commotion in the corridor and Harry’s advancing form; tall and lean; muttering to Darcy.

 

“Is he feeling sick again? Why haven’t you asked him?”

 

Louis swallowed, chin lifted to the incredibly beautiful man who stopped in front of him with a concerned pout.

 

“Why’re you hiding?”

 

“I’m not…I just—it doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “I’m okay now.” _I’m fucking head over heels for you._

 

Harry smoothed his hand over Louis’ shoulder; settling it against his lower back.

 

“C’mon then, handsome,” he murmured. “I’ll take you out…”

 

//

 

They may as well be holding hands.

 

The crowd went wild when they came back out _together._ Louis nearly bolted; rooted to the spot by fear and only the pressure of Harry's palm moved him forward.

 

“Lou got a little stage fright for a second there,” Harry told his fans. “I managed to coax him out…”

 

Louis went to divert to his station but Harry's arm slid around his waist and directed him towards the interview area instead, where the two sofas sat.

 

“Let’s sit for a minute,” Harry suggested. “Get used to the fame…”

 

Louis managed a weak smile.

 

“You can’t have anything left to ask me,” he broached.

 

Harry's brow lifted.

 

“That sounds like a challenge…”

 

Louis lifted his chin to meet Harry's gaze. _He wanted to know more about him?_ Still?

 

“Now, I’ve met your stunning mother, Jay,” Harry led with a smile at the person who whooped in the crowd. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about the rest of your family?”

 

Louis fiddled with his fingers and dared to look at a few faces in the front row. They held rainbow flags up and jiggled them excitedly on seeing him look.

 

“I have-uh-six sisters and a brother,” he shared softly. “Huge family. Always loud,” he mused. “Always messy,” he added after.

 

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Harry muttered. “And you’re very close to your Mother aren’t you, Lou?”

 

Louis shrugged. “She raised us alone until my stepdad came along,” he shared. “Mark’s like my real Dad,” he admitted. “He encouraged me to be a carpenter.”

 

“Did you have any opposition to wanting to craft wood?” Harry questioned carefully.

 

“A bit yeah,” Louis huffed out, relaxing in the seat a bit. “Not like, over-bearing pressure,” he assured. “Just the usual; “are you sure that’s what you want, Louis?”,” he phrased. “And it’s what I wanted more than anything.”

 

“More than boys?” Harry’s eyes twinkled.

 

Louis grinned.

 

“This is a family show,” Louis ducked the question expertly.

 

Harry’s fingers tangled in his curls.

 

“Or is it?” He smirked into the camera, earning some laughter.

 

“Shall we make our food?” Louis suggested.

 

Harry hummed, green eyes fastened on him.

 

“Let’s get cooking,” he said anyway.

 

//

 

“Hey, c'mere...”

 

The tone of Harry’s voice wasn’t one Louis had heard before.  If he hadn’t just accidentally burned his hand then he might be distracted by it.

 

Harry was holding his wrist firmly under the cold tap; his hair a bit wild and his eyes wilder.

 

“Are you ok Lou? Do you feel dizzy or faint?”

 

Louis swung a look at the crowd while his arm was held hostage by Harry’s caring hands. _Not because of his burn he wasn't_. He was close enough to Harry to kiss him if the circumstances were different. Their chests were only inches apart although angled away slightly while Harry leaned into the counter to flush Louis' skin.

 

“Really I’m fine Princess. Stop fussing...” Louis flicked his eyes over Harry’s concerned face; drifting into his soft hair.

 

“Can we have a medic?” Harry barked. “What does it take to get some urgent medical care around here?”

 

Louis huffed.

 

“Another studio fire, probably...”

 

Harry gave him a stern look.

 

“This is no time for jokes, Lou,” he reprimanded him in the same soft, deep voice. “Are you sure you feel alright?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and hitched his hip against the counter. Harry watched him with furrowed brows and a cute cross expression while Graham and Darcy searched for a first aider.

 

Harry swiped his thumb gently over Louis' wrist as the water gushed over his whole hand.

 

“Lou?”

 

Louis swallowed and nodded, lifting his chin a fraction.

 

“I’m good, Princess. I told you.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Harry pouted.

 

Louis offered him a twitchy smile.

 

“I’m not in the habit of lying to you,” he pointed out.

 

Harry stared at him for a long moment before their bubble was burst.

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Styles,” a young man with dark hair and dark framed glasses interrupted. “I’m here to check on Louis.”

 

Harry gave him a disgruntled frown.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Damian,” he smiled. “I work with the sound team out b-“

 

“Never mind,” Harry cut him off impatiently. “Just see to Louis,” he added sharply.

 

Louis arched his brow at Harry as he stepped away.

 

“Please,” Harry murmured quietly. “Please look after him.”

 

Damian turned off the water and gently grasped Louis' wrist to pat his skin dry.

 

“I’m just going to see what it looks like now,” he explained. “How long did you have it under the faucet?”

 

“About five minutes,” Louis estimated.

 

Damian smiled at him; a pair of twinkly blue eyes sitting beneath his fashionably thick frames.

 

“So you stopped setting fire to the place, then?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, letting his smile warm up when Damian grinned at him; evidencing his teasing.

 

“Yeah, I’m just getting my comeback,” he mused. “Punishment for not burning the studio to the grounds.. .”

 

Damian chuckled, careful fingers smoothing over his skin.

 

“Where...?”

 

“Here,” Louis pointed to the barely visible pink welt which was only just appearing.

 

Damian turned the tap back on.

 

“Another five minutes should do it,” he assured; glancing around as the floor crew curtained off the main stage to prevent the audience from seeing.

 

Louis flicked his eyes around to check what was happening and they settled on Harry; stood in his own kitchen on the other side of the stage with his hip against the counter and his ankles delicately crossed.

 

He was facing them and his large upper teeth were chewing his lower lip; not something Louis had noticed him do before; his lip tint was usually far too revered for a nervous habit like lip-chewing. 

 

And besides, Harry wasn’t usually nervous. Louis straightened a bit on seeing him; having assumed he'd headed backstage for a touch-up. Liam hovered beside him; hugging his clipboard and Louis shot him a wave and a grin.

 

“You have a really nice smile by the way.”

 

Damian’s voice brought Louis' attention back to the man in front of him.

 

“Nah,” Louis denied gently. “It's a bit crooked.”

 

Damian’s eyes sparkled.

 

“I hope so,” he flirted.

 

Louis blinked, eyes widening slightly when they opened.

 

“Oh...”

 

Damian smirked.

 

“Unless you’re still too wrapped up in the diva to _you know_...want to consider your options...”

 

Louis was genuinely lost for words as his lips parted. What he would say he didn’t know, so he decided to just breathe for a moment.

 

“What’s taking so long?”

 

Harry marched over to stop beside Louis; nostrils flaring.

 

Damian glanced at Harry and smiled sweetly.

 

“Just asking Louis out on a date,” he replied audaciously. “That’s OK with you isn’t it, H?”

 

Louis volleyed his gaze between the two men; watching Harry move subtly to stand nearly chest to chest with Damian; a dark look in his eyes.

 

“Unless you’d like to collect your p45 today I suggest you leave the stage _now_.”

 

Louis reached over the sink to turn off the faucet, checking his hand for the remaining damage.

 

Harry was beside him in a slow sweep; cupping his hand in the towel to dry it off once more.

 

“So where’s he taking you?” Harry asked.

 

Louis frowned.

 

“Who?”

 

“My _ex_ -employee,” Harry smirked.

 

Louis twisted to watch Damian walk off the stage; accompanied by Liam.

 

“Tell me you didn’t just get him sacked,” Louis exasperated. “Tell Liam that you were joking! You can’t just-“

 

“I’m deadly serious,” Harry assured. “My staff do not under any circumstances make sexual advances toward anyone on set.”

 

Louis chucked out a disbelieving breath.

 

“Unlike you, you mean.”

 

Harry arched a brow.

 

“If I recall it accurately, it was _you_ who kissed _me_ first,” he goaded.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Whatever Princess. You kissed me back. Not exactly strong evidence to your innocence...”

 

Harry smiled slowly enough for Louis to feel the whispers of attraction thread into his veins.

 

“So,” Harry repeated in a deep voice. “Where’s he taking you?”

 

Louis met his gaze; heart throbbing out of fear and something else. Maybe desire.  He wanted him. God he wanted him so badly his body ached even now; wanting him again. And yet that want burrowed deeper into his very soul and took root. That was something which Louis couldn’t deny. Harry was rooted into his soul.

 

“Nowhere,” he replied coolly. “I was about to gently turn him down...”

 

Harry stared at him for a long moment with assessing eyes.

 

“You need to put cream on your hand,” he stepped away as he gave the instruction, unfastening the first aid box.

 

“I can do that, H,” Liam suggested as he returned to the stage.

 

“I can manage,” Harry frowned; turning his wide shoulders towards Liam to cut him off. “Thank you,” he added huskily as an afterthought.

 

Liam merely shot Louis an arched brow and went on his way while Harry carefully squeezed out some cream and rubbed it into the sore spot.

 

“No more fire for you,” Harry mumbled.

 

Louis sighed.

 

“I’m fine. Let’s get the curtain down and get back to filming,” he added.

 

Harry’s hands cupped around his injured one protectively; the heavy metallic weight of his rings strangely arousing.

 

“Are you sure, Lou?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Harry nodded and moved to speak to Graham.

 

//

 

It was during the next filming break that Liam stepped into Louis' dressing room with his all important clip board.

 

“There’s a slight delay before you go back out,” He smiled, sauntering further into the room.

 

Louis eyed him suspiciously.

 

“Why? What's going on?”

 

Liam merely lifted a brow.

 

“Nothing much. Just a little fun game for your last show,” he teased.

 

Louis frowned, tension lacing through his body.

 

“This better not be a dating game,” he warned.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that _exactly_ ,” Liam smirked.

 

“Where’s Harry?” Louis asked next.

 

A sharp rap of knuckles on the door startled them both.

 

“Liam? Are you in there?” Harry called from the hallway.

 

Louis darted Liam a look and the other man rushed to open the door.

 

“Yes, sir?” He smiled sweetly as Harry appeared on the other side.

 

His dark eyes flicked to Louis before settling back on his assistant.

 

“Why aren’t we allowed back on stage?” Harry enquired.

 

Louis snorted, plopping onto the sofa in his room.

 

“That makes two of us...”

 

“We're just setting up a bit of fun for Louis' last show,” Liam promised.

 

Harry glared at him, opening his mouth to speak and then thinking better of it. He shouldered past him and stopped in front of the sofa.

 

“Well, can I wait with you, then?” He asked brusquely.

 

Louis patted the cushion beside him.

 

“Get comfortable, Princess. We're about to get stitched up...” He predicted. 


	13. Chapter 13

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Hot Buns! I am James Corden, a guest host on tonight’s show, and I’d like to invite your favourite two stars to the stage for a little surprise edition of Mr & Mrs to mark the end of Louis’ guest-chef residency!”

 

The crowd went wild as James walked to the side of the main stage to reveal a smaller stage set up for the game.

 

“Or should I say Mr & Mr,” he corrected, a sign lighting up and flashing with the words depicted on it. “We’ve been keeping them backstage in secrecy,” he added as Harry stepped out onto the stage, swiftly followed by Louis.

 

Louis froze upon seeing James grinning at them from a side stage.

 

“What's this?” He asked, tension straightening his back as he brushed Harry’s arm to stand by him.

 

“No idea, I swear,” Harry promised, frowning slightly.

 

“Come on over you two lovely people!” James gestured them with his cue cards. “We’ve got a little game for your last show together....a test of sorts. To see how well you really know each other after six weeks of filming...”

 

“Jesus,” Louis muttered under his breath, fingers twisting to glance against Harry’s to garner his attention. Harry looked down at him with a pensive expression. _Six weeks of fucking, too,_ Louis mused to himself.

 

“It’s just a game,” Harry tried to reassure him.

 

Louis peeked at the audience furtively, gaping as his mother waved from the front row. When had she got there?

 

Harry followed his gaze and smiled widely, calling a “Hi, Jay!” across the floor.

 

Jay blew them both kisses.

 

“Come on Lou!” She yelled. “You can do this!”

 

If only Louis knew what it was he needed to do, he mused.

 

“Alright, are you both settled?” James checked as they each took a seat, faced away from each other.

 

Louis bent down to pick up the stack of cards and the marker pen from beside the seat, sitting back and shivering when the soft curls of Harry’s hair brushed the back of his head.

 

“So the object of the game is that I ask you a question About the other person and you write down the answer. If you get eight or more matches you win a romantic meal for two at a top-notch restaurant _and_ we'll donate five hundred pounds to a charity of your choice,  Louis. There’s no losers here tonight,” James winked at the camera.

 

Louis felt his cheeks burn a little at the insinuation he would automatically take Harry out to dinner with the prize.  He couldn’t see Ben allowing that, somehow.

 

“First question, are you ready?”

 

“Ready,” they both answered at the same time earning a chuckle from the audience.

 

“What is Harry's favourite song?” James asked.

 

Louis bit his lip. He knew the words of the song that he’d caught Harry singing but he didn’t know who sang it. He quickly scribbled down the parts he could remember.

 

“Okay, Harry, let’s see what you wrote,” James invited.

 

Harry lifted up his board. Scribbled in messy writing was the title _Meet Me in the Hallway_ and underneath in brackets, (Gotta get better).

 

“Louis, did you get a match?” James prompted.

 

Louis showed his board, words scrawled in short bursts.

 

_Gotta get better_

_Maybe we'll work it out_

He grinned as the crowd cheered, twisting to read Harry’s board.

 

“Who's song is it anyway?” Louis wondered as he met Harry’s fond gaze.

 

“Mine,” he smiled.

 

Louis’ brows shot up but he didn’t have time to ask questions because James was calming the audience ready for his next question.

 

“Right, who is Louis' celebrity crush?” James posed.

 

Both men wrote confidently onto their boards.

 

Harry lifted his first.

“Chris Hemsworth!” He called out, smirking at Jay.

 

Louis lifted his own board, grinning at James.

 

“I did say Chris Hemsworth, yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s actually Harry, so,” he shrugged. “Tiny lie.”

 

Harry twisted to look at Louis but Louis avoided his gaze.

 

“Let’s mix things up a bit,” James narrated. “What is Harry’s worst trait?” He asked.

 

Louis snorted.

 

“Hey!” Harry called over his shoulder with a huff, slowly writing an answer on his card.

 

“Harry, what do you think Louis will say your worst trait is?”

 

Harry showed the audience his answer. _Pompous._

Louis got up to celebrate his minor victory, having also written down the word on his board.

 

“I should be offended,” Harry pouted as Louis did a victory lap of the chairs.

 

Louis paused and smiled softly at him.

 

“Always time to change that, love...”

 

Harry gently batted his behind and rolled his eyes as Louis sat back down.

 

“Who is the tidiest?” James asked next.

 

The crowd cheered when they both picked Harry as being the tidiest out of the pair of them. Harry fluttered his lashes and feigned modesty.

 

“A girl likes to be organised,” he teased.

 

“Okay here’s a tough one. What is the other person’s eye colour?” James posed.

 

Harry rolled his eyes as he quickly wrote down _blue._ He twisted to see what Louis wrote, not many people getting his eye colour right. His mouth fell open at the _pretty green_ written with a smiley face with crosses for eyes.

 

Louis winked at him as he stared.

 

“Hey, we got five right,” he mumbled.

 

“Who has the best fashion sense?” James moved on quickly, both men selecting Harry and winning another match.

 

“This might cause some trouble,” James smirked. “Who is the most attractive?”

 

Louis wrote Harry’s name without even pausing. It was obvious. Like him being more fashionable and more tidy. A simple fact. Harry was the best looking man on the planet.

 

Only when he held his board up the audience melted into coos because on Harry’s board printed in capital letters was _TINY._

Louis frowned, eyes darting to Harry’s only to find him smiling impishly with his stained lip bitten under his teeth; eyes dipping to his mouth.

 

“It’s definitely you, Lou,” he added lowly.

 

Louis startled as James brought the game back under control.

 

“Only three more questions, “ he promised. “Here’s a naughty one. Who is the little spoon?”

 

Louis lifted his chin, glancing at his Mum for help and finding her laughter no support whatsoever.  Was he really meant to announce on national television that he had slept with Harry? He checked over his shoulder only to find Harry already writing, shocked at his candidness.

 

“Alright,” he murmured to himself, tapping his board on his thigh while Harry showed his.

 

“ _Me_  :)”

 

He sighed in relief, showing his offering.

 

 

“ _Princess_ 👸”

 

The audience laughed, Louis feeling hot under the collar of his shirt.

 

“Another controversial one here...Who is the best cook?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes. Obviously it was Harry. He was qualified.  Again the audience found it delightful when they got it wrong because Harry had picked Louis as being the better cook despite his lack of formal training.

 

“It’s down to the wire, folk,” James teased. “Let’s hope they get it right...”

 

Louis tipped his head back to rest it against Harry’s momentarily.

 

“Tell me...Who is the best kisser?”

 

The crowd roared at the question,  Louis darting another look to his mother who just nodded with a thumbs up as though this was the proudest moment of her life and Louis didn’t blame her but his whole love life was now laid bare to the British public and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

He also wasn’t sure how Harry would answer. Would he pick Louis? And therefore Louis should choose himself to win? Or would he think Louis would pick Harry and write his own name? _Fuck_. Maybe he really did think he was a better kisser than Louis? Louis took a deep breath and made his decision,  glancing nervously to his side.

 

“At the same time please, gentleman,” James gestured for them to show their boards.

 

Louis got up and turned, mouth gaping open as he read Harry’s answer.

 

_Both._

He’d written the same, unable to define the right way to go and now they stared at each other, elated grins crossing their faces.

 

Louis moved first, tossing his board away; welcomed into Harry’s tight, cradling hug as he stepped up to him while the crowd celebrated.

 

“Well they’ve done it!” James cheered. “They’ve won the date night and the charity money!”

 

Louis pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek as he pulled away, James sliding an arm around his waist to turn him towards the camera.

 

“Louis, where would you like the donation to go?”

 

“Uh, to Cancer Research" Louis selected, earning more cheers. “Thank you so much, James.”

 

James squeezed him with a sparkled look at Harry.

 

“Any last comments, Hazza?”

 

“I’d just like to say thank you for coming along to surprise us, it was a wonderful- if intrusive- little game and the show won’t be the same without Louis setting the stage alight,” he quipped, his hand gently squeezing Louis' behind where the three of them stood arm in arm. “Thank you for being such a great co-host,” Harry added.

 

“Thank you for having me,” Louis replied with a twitchy-lipped smile. “I loved every minute of it.”

 

They bowed three times, waving to the audience and blowing kisses until the shot was captured and then Louis wandered down to where his Mum sat, pulling her into a hug.

 

“You could have told me you were coming,” he accused softly.

 

She cupped his face.

 

“It was a surprise,” she beamed. “So you and Harry are--?”

 

Jay tapered off as Harry approached her for his own hug.

 

“Jay!” He pulled her close in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you...”

 

Jay smiled at him.

 

“You and Louis are official then,” she mused.

 

Harry rolled his eyes affectionately.

 

“It would seem that way,” he remarked drily.

 

Louis glanced at him, heart racing when Harry slipped his fingers through Louis' under the shrouding cover of their jackets.

 

“I’m happy for you both,” she assured.

 

Louis smiled, eyes staying on Harry.

 

“We're just taking it as it comes, Mum,” he assured and all too soon Harry was tugged away to meet the fans of the show, Louis' fingers feeling bare without Harry’s tucked between them.

 

//

 

Harry opened his dressing room door among the spirited after-math of the quiz game, James and Liam tumbling into the room as Harry slowed to stop; a large square frame draped with a sheet resting in his dressing room sofa.

 

It might be the only place he and Louis hadn't christened yet. His lashes fell slowly over his eyes as his lips curved into a dirty grin at the thought of rolling Louis underneath him and getting off on grinding their bodies together with deep, tonguing kisses.

 

“What’s that?” Liam asked, glancing at the large white mound curiously.

 

Harry walked up to the sofa, laying his suit jacket in the chair before his trembling fingers plucked away the sheet.

 

A huge, tiered doll's house was unearthed with the move, three turrets formed at the top and a winding staircase crafted through the middle.

 

Each room was painted with minute detail, bare of furniture but still so incredibly realistic that Harry felt his throat close in.

 

“Oh wow,” Liam moved closer to look.

 

“Would you look at that!” James enthused. “Your fans are the _best_!”

 

Harry flicked his eyes to James, beseeching Liam with a soulful stare.

 

“It’s not from a fan,” Harry husked. “It’s from Louis.”

 

James lifted a brow and smiled, sending Liam a knowing look.

 

“He sounds like an amazing guy, Harry,” James murmured.

 

“He is,” Liam confirmed for him. “He’s really cool.”

 

Harry ran his hand gently over the garnished wood, brows furrowing slightly as something twisted painfully in his chest.

 

“I should go and thank him,” he broached in a whisper.

 

James snorted.

 

“Alright well that’s my cue to leave,” he teased.

 

Harry rolled his eyes as James pulled him into a hug.

 

“Let this one hang around, Hazza,” He begged softly. “I think he’s good for you.”

 

Harry parted ways with his friends, walking steadily down the hall towards Louis' room, guilt eating him up inside. He hadn’t gotten Louis a parting gift because he hadn’t planned on them parting.

 

But Louis thought they _were._ Or he felt insecure enough to gift Harry that beautiful doll's house in the event Harry wouldn’t see him again.

 

And that aroused a kind of hurt that Harry had felt before but maybe hadn’t acknowledged or accepted responsibility for.

 

Louis was afraid. He was afraid that _dating_ him wasn’t going to be enough. And yet it was all Harry could promise him.

 

He just hoped it would be enough as he knocked on Louis' door.

 

//

 

“Oh,” Louis looked up, surprised as Harry walked forward purposefully; pulling Louis into his arms and kissing him eagerly.

 

“Oh,” he added more softly as Harry pulled away, setting one more tender kiss to his lips. He looked upset, somehow. “You okay?”

 

Harry shook his head, throat working as he fluttered his lashes to blink away tears.

 

“The doll's house, Lou,” he whispered.

 

Louis' brows lifted in realisation. A sudden shot of fear stabbed him in the chest.

 

“Y-you don’t like it?” He stammered, heart constricting. “I can make you another one,” he hedged quickly. “I can-"

 

Harry pressed his mouth against Louis’ again, firmer this time, then softening to coax Louis into kissing him. Louis let out a soft sound as Harry’s hands slipped onto his ass, squeezing the flesh and pulling Louis into him where he moaned and licked into his mouth.

 

“Lou—fuck, _Lou_ ,” he sighed, pressing kisses over Louis' scruffy jaw.

 

Louis cupped the back of his neck and stood on tiptoe to return gentle kisses to his forehead and cheek.

 

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” he finally managed on a ravaged voice. “I don’t deserve it....It’s too perfect...”

 

Louis bit his lip, hands settling against Harry’s arms.

 

“I wanted you to have something to remember me by. A goodbye gift,” he offered.

 

“This isn’t goodbye,” Harry told him with a cross pout. “I want too see you again. I want--"

 

Louis swallowed, looking up into guarded eyes. Harry huffed, breath panted over Louis' face.

 

“I want this,” he mumbled. “Us. Kissing,” he added with the tiniest twitch of his lips that shadowed his dimple.

 

“I want that too,” Louis promised.

 

“Then take me home?” Harry asked, hands grasping the back of Louis' t-shirt he’d changed into with his jeans.

 

Louis nodded, lifting a hand to frame his cheek.

 

“Love to,” he murmured.

 

//

 

They were laid together; both on their backs with Harry curled slightly to fit under Louis’ arm. Louis’ fingers combed through his thick fringe rhythmically.

 

Harry had put on a pair of soft grey trousers with a simple white t-shirt and Louis had kissed most of the make up off his lips.

 

“Did I ever tell you about my family?” Harry’s voice was always slower after sex. Louis had almost blown his own mind when Harry had come loudly while Louis' tongue was still inside him; his rigid back-arch and tremoring body afterwards the ultimate aphrodisiac.

 

“No,” Louis whispered, hand curling around his arm protectively.

 

"My father was one of a long line of military personnel," Harry told him, his voice soft with fatigue. "I grew up in a very strict household where creativity wasn't welcomed," he added. 

 

Louis pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

 

"When they sent me to a Military Academy I realised I had to get out of there," he murmured; splaying his hand over Louis' belly gently and watching his own digits fan across Louis' smooth skin.

 

"How old were you?"

 

"Fourteen," Harry swallowed. "And when I hit eighteen I told my father that I was going to study cuisine at College. Let's just say that he didn't react well to the news." He remarked dryly. "That was when you found me," he added.  

 

Louis rolled over a bit to wrap both arms around him; sliding his leg between Harry's to settle into place. 

 

"I'm sorry, Harry."

 

"There's more," Harry ventured.

 

"Okay," Louis whispered.

 

"When I auditioned for the show, the network didn't want a flamboyant man to host it," he admitted. "But Ben said he could get me the job and...well, he said all I had to was sleep with him," he sighed.

 

"What a dick," Louis mumbled. 

 

"I only did it the once. I didn't want to do it again but it was expected, you know? I felt like I could lose my job if I refused. It was...difficult."

 

Louis swallowed, cupping the back of Harry's neck. 

 

"You're still sleeping with him?"

 

"Fuck, no," Harry frowned, eyes dipping. "I said it was difficult but I wasn't going to compromise myself any more. It's just-" he took a shaky breath and his eyes flicked up to meet Louis' once more. "He likes to call me Baby and he calls himself Daddy and sometimes he likes to touch. It doesn't mean anything."

Louis nodded with a soothing hum; pulling back to look him in the eyes. The way he felt about Harry hadn't been defined openly. His heart raced the same way Harry's did when they were together but they weren't officially exclusive. 

 

Louis had no control over what Harry allowed to happen; who he let touch him and who he didn't. But he was the only guy who got to _kiss_ him and _more_ and maybe that was enough.

 

"Maybe I can let it go," Louis murmured, heart thudding wildly with his courage.

 

"What?" Harry frowned, olive eyes narrowing. 

 

"The stuff with Ben," he promised. "I won't pressure you."

 

"Lou, I can't ask that of you.” He huffed. “I'm ashamed of what I did and I'm not a good person, alright? I let things happen and you don't deserve to be in the middle of any of this..."

 

Louis kissed him quiet; digging his fingers into the back of his hair to run his fingertips against his scalp.

 

Harry melted into him with a throaty moan and Louis made the most of their privacy.

 

Maybe Harry didn’t want to let Louis forgive him but Louis was in too deep to mind.

 

 _Let me love you,_ he begged Harry silently in his own mind. _Let yourself be loved._

 

Louis hoped that Harry’s weakening body signalled a weakening in his resolve.

 

“You’re not a bad person,” he made sure to whisper against his lips between kisses.

 

 

//

It was when they were cuddled together again afterwards that Harry sought out Louis' digits to twine their fingers together, a thoughtful furrow above his brow.

 

“You have nice hands,” Harry told him.

 

Louis flicked his eyes to Harry's face, gifted with the curve of his dark lashes and the plumpness of his kiss-swollen lips.

 

“What’s with your rings by the way?”

 

“Hmm?” Harry had gotten distracted into drawing patterns over Louis' bare tummy with his languid fingertips.

 

“You only wear them on stage. With your suits.”

 

Harry swallowed.

 

“Part of the costume,” he explained idly, lashes swooping up to reveal his hazy eyes.

 

Louis licked his lips.

 

“That’s all?” He pushed carefully.

 

Harry twisted to look at him properly, his cast grazing Louis' foot.

 

“You ask me questions you don’t want to hear the answers to,” he mused.

 

“Ben?” Louis asked.

 

Harry nodded, dipping his chin so that his silky hair fell in messy clumps over his forehead. His feet hung in the air, lips brushing over Louis' bicep in apology, almost.

 

Louis thought the subject to be closed. Harry had already opened up to him about his past, had already proved in some small way that he was trying. Louis had no right to expect more and yet Harry sighed, seemingly willing to give it.

 

“He likes buying them for me,” he murmured.  “Thinks I like them. I only wear them at work...”

 

He spread his fingers and fluttered them with a twist of his lips.

 

“I like it better without.”

 

Louis shifted, sliding his arms around Harry’s middle and nudging close for a tender kiss. He wanted so badly for Harry to be his but Harry had to want that too. Enough to break free of Ben’s hold. And Louis could understand the need that Harry had to placate the show’s Director, he really could.

 

But as Harry pressed close to him and kissed him back as he tightened his arms around him, he was finding it harder and harder to remember that reasoning. Because part of him just wanted to steal Harry away for his own selfish reasons and Harry’s slow reciprocation was solidifying that feeling.


	14. Chapter 14

“You two are all over the gossip columns!” Darcy slapped down a copy of _Hello_ magasine, opened at a page with an entire spread on the pair of them; pictures from the show mixed with candid shots.

 

Louis frowned at some of the paparazzi pictures, unaware they had been taken at the time. They only depicted Harry getting into Louis' car or the pair of them idling outside Harry’s house; but _still_.

 

“Cinderella?” Louis read aloud. “Rags to riches?”

 

Harry smirked, hand settling over his thigh possessively.

 

“I’m your Prince, Lou. Struck it lucky.”

 

Louis stared at him with a frown.

 

“As if your money had _any_ part in this,” he defended.

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Sex sells, Lou. You'll learn to ignore it.”

 

“ _Hello_ have suggested a photoshoot,” Darcy posed. “They want to run an exclusive.”

 

“An exclusive on what?” Louis enquired.

 

“Your first shoot as a couple, of course,” she smiled. “They want to run a piece on your prize from the last show...”

 

“The date night?” Harry checked, having forgotten all about the prize.

 

“It would be brilliant promotion for the show,” Darcy suggested.

 

Harry hummed, fingertips gliding over his lips thoughtfully.

 

“It would be good for your business too, Lou,” he posed.

 

Louis darted him a look. He wanted to protect what they had with every cell in his body. He wanted to hide Harry away and lay tangled and naked with him in a hammock in Jamaica where the world couldn’t touch them. Maybe with nobody else around to taint what they had, they could keep it pure. Maybe Louis would have even half a chance of making Harry love him.

 

Looking at Harry's bright, hopeful face he knew that Harry wanted to do the article. He wanted to keep up the ruse, put on a show and flaunt their magic for all to see. Just for the show.

 

He felt his tummy twist in painful remembrance of the other times Harry had been more interested in the show than in _them._ He couldn’t even commit to monogamy, Louis mused. How could he expect him to commit to _privacy_? _He couldn’t._ And he wanted to give Harry everything he wanted which was stupid, but falling in love with him had been stupid too and where did that get him?

 

“Fine,” he nodded his agreement, deciding that publicity was a small price to pay for Harry's happiness.

 

//

The photoshoot for Hello featured Harry in a sparkly grey suit and Louis in a matching herringbone grey similar to the suit he’d worn on set.

 

They’d mucked about in Kew Gardens for the shots, Louis tucking a lily behind Harry’s ear, a stunning picture which had made the final cut.

 

The pictures from the dinner date had been more formal. Louis had been tense all night, shunning Harry’s attempts at affectionate touching and eye-contact.

 

Later, Louis had pushed him on his front on the bed and fucked him hard enough for Harry to know just how much Louis wanted the world to know about them. And afterwards Harry had kissed him deeply and straddled his lap for slower, more intimate sex; reminding Louis that he _did_ care about more than the show.

 

“Personally, I think you look great,” Harry smiled slowly, flicking the page of the magasine from behind Louis, pressed into his back at Louis' kitchen counter.

 

“Not as good as you,” Louis twisted to press a kiss to Harry’s jaw, caged in by his arms where he rested his hands on the counter.

 

Harry smiled, eyes flicking over Louis' before he awkwardly shifted to kiss his cheek.

 

“You still don’t know how handsome you are,” he marvelled.

 

Louis huffed and went back to turning the pages of the publication.

 

“They got a few from the set, too,” he mused.

 

Harry hummed, body pressing against Louis' in a suggestive way.

 

“Wanna play?” Harry asked against his hair, hands settling over Louis' to still them against the counter.

 

Louis smirked, his body relaxing back with a gentle sigh of inevitability.

 

“Is this getting you hot?” Louis teased, twisting his body and finding his back eagerly pressed into the counter as Harry ducked his head to kiss him.

 

“Hmmmm,” he moaned against his mouth, fingers sliding off the surface to gather up the hem of his t-shirt. “Maybe,”   he breathed against his skin, palms smoothing up his back against his warm body.

 

Louis' eyes darted up, lips parted in surprise and Harry just smirked and kissed him again more thoroughly, his hands assisting his attack.

 

Louis weakly gave in, fisting into Harry’s shirt to pull him closer until the familiar ringtone of his mobile cut into the heat of their passion.

 

“Ignore it,” Harry begged, attempting to tug Louis' top off completely.

 

Louis laughed breathily and twisted away, scampering towards the living room to slide his phone from his pocket. He answered with a breathy;

 

“Hello?”

 

Harry tracked him; leaning in the doorway between the rooms for a moment.

 

“Mr. Tomlinson?” An unfamiliar female voice asked.

 

“That’s me,” Louis frowned and Harry moved closer with a furrow of his brows.

 

“This is Francesca Phillips from District Radio,” the caller explained. “We’d like to discuss having you on the show...”

 

Louis took a breath, eyes meeting Harry's. Harry looked at him worriedly and moved slowly; quietly slipping his arms around Louis' waist.

 

“Oh?” He swallowed, surprised by the invitation.

 

“Our listeners have been watching Hot Buns and are huge fans of yours! Do you have a representative we can contact to set this up?”

 

“A representative?” Louis echoed as Harry’s thumbs worked under his tucked up t-shirt to stroke against his skin soothingly.

 

“An agent,” Harry murmured at the same time as Francesca replied.

 

Louis smiled, combing Harry’s fallen fringe away from his face gently.

 

“I um...I don’t have one yet. Why don’t you call me back tomorrow and I’ll speak to someone about this...”

 

“That would be wonderful! We'd really love to see you.”

 

“I’d love to come in,” he assured.

 

Francesca parted with the promise to call the next day and Louis tossed his phone onto the sofa with a grin.

 

“My boo is getting famous,” Harry pouted, a smile slowly appearing as he leaned in for a clinging kiss.

 

“Its just a radio show,” Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Today it’s radio,” Harry commented. “Tomorrow it’ll be Jonathan Ross...”

 

Louis huffed out an amused laugh and let Harry kiss him for longer.

 

“Let’s get back to this play time you talked about,” Louis grinned, tugging him towards the bedroom.

 

//

 

The magasine launch followed the release of the prototype around two weeks later.

 

Louis had employed Greg Lowe as his agent and his interview with District Radio had been surprisingly popular, earning a fresh wave of appearance invitations that Greg was filtering through while Louis focused on his outfit for the launch.

 

He and Harry had inadvertently become a kind of power couple, somehow. It probably had a lot to do with the couples' game they had played on the show, which was aired with _all_ of their answers that revealed they had _kissed_ and _slept together_.

 

The only glitch in that concept was the fact that Harry didn’t want to commit to anything. But the way he unfolded his long body from the car and waited for Louis with an outheld hand went a long way to reassuring Louis that the _intention_ was there if not the timing.

 

Some small part of him couldn’t help the insecurity though. The part that wondered if this was yet another thing that Harry was doing for Hot Buns more than Louis himself.

 

The way Harry’s eyes clung to his, blocking out the frenzied camera flashes helped calm his racing heart.

 

Harry pulled him gently closer by his hand until their bodies were aligned, allowing him to lean down and murmur “Smile, darling,” into his ear.

 

Louis tensed at the endearment, glancing up with a frown. Harry’s fingers felt shaky threaded through his. He looked attentive but there was a nervous kind of energy radiating from his beautiful bloom-printed suit-covered body that Louis couldn’t place.

 

Harry was guiding him towards the throng of photographers before Louis had a chance to ask; hand still entwined with his firmly on the approach.

 

Louis posed for pictures stiffly, forcing a smile and standing close when the paparazzi wanted them to. There was a magasine photographer assigned to document their arrival and Louis felt more relaxed away from the press wall, posing for more languid shots in a quiet corner of the red carpet. There was a velvet midnight blue backdrop with tiny stars set up purposefully for the shots and Harry even curled him in close for a kiss when they were finished, eyes sparkling like the stars behind them.

 

“I’m heading inside, there are a few people I need to see,” Harry told him.

 

“Okay,” Louis nodded.

 

“You should stay out here and do a few interviews,” he added. “I’ll pop back out later to speak with the press.”

 

Louis released Harry’s hand after Harry leaned in to kiss his cheek, on oddly overwhelming sensation of loss occurring as Harry strode away.

 

“Guess I’ll just deal with the masses, then,” Louis muttered to himself as he headed back towards the crowds waiting for them.

 

//

 

An hour and a half later, Louis headed inside for a breather.

 

“Lou!” Liam pounced on him with a hug as he made it to the bar safely.

 

“Hey,” Louis smiled. “Finally, someone I actually know.”

 

Liam beamed at him.

 

“This is amazing! So many industry people have come tonight, you must be so excited!”

 

Louis gave Liam a rueful look.

 

“I don't know any of these people,” he observed. “And I’m pretty sure after tonight, it won’t matter...”

 

“What do you mean?” Liam leaned closer to hear Louis over the chatter of the crowded bar.

 

Louis shrugged.

 

“I’m a carpenter, not a celebrity. Tomorrow I go back to my workshop and life as I know it.”

 

“Why not be both?” Liam smiled.  “I’m sure one of those shows where they make over houses will want you,” he winked.

 

Louis shook his head, shuffling a few inches in the queue to reach the bar.

 

“it’s not for me,” Louis assured. “I’m a simple man.”

 

“But you’re with Harry now,” Liam broached.

 

“Am I?” Louis mused dryly. “Where is he, anyway?”

 

Liam twisted to crane his neck around the room while Louis got his drink ordered, a VIP pass pressed into his palm for next time.

 

“He was networking with the executives,” Liam muttered as Louis sipped on a whiskey and coke.

 

Louis' gaze naturally flitted around the room in a circle, certain he would pick out Harry from the crowd easily in his colourful suit.

 

What his gaze settled on though,  injected an instant sickening feeling into his stomach.

 

“Oh,” Liam intoned before he had time to catch himself. “He’s with Ben...”

 

Harry's black, pussy bow shirt was now untied, the ribbons that made up the collar hanging loosely over his chest and the shirt unbuttoned to reveal his pecs.

 

Louis could see that his cheeks were a little flushed, his lips slick with a lip-stain that he hadn’t put on at home and his eyes looked dark, as though his pupils were enlarged.

 

If it wasn’t enough that Harry had sought out the man he supposedly disliked, he was happily tucked into his side with Ben’s arm secured around his waist possessively and if that wasn’t a kick to Louis' groin then he didn’t know what was.

 

Harry had warned him, he couldn’t deny it. He’d told him he wasn’t a good person. And Louis had somehow weakly believed he might be mistaken. That he was in fact a good person who just needed someone to trust him and love him as he was.

 

And fuck it if Louis didn’t love him. Because he did.

 

And he wasn’t about to let Harry fall into Ben’s trap again, no matter how much it hurt to know he’d wandered too close to the ruse. And why did he keep going back for more? Harry admitted it was complicated but why did he feel as though Ben held all the power? Louis knew that Harry could easily find another show to work on. Why didn’t _Harry_ know that?

 

Or did he know? And he just liked the cat and mouse game that he and Ben played? Did Harry like being controlled in some way?

 

Louis had experienced the way Harry gave everything up to him so easily when they kissed. How he softened when they cuddled and how he spoke about his truths when they were quiet and alone. But had Ben seen that side of him, too?

 

Had he taken advantage of that misplaced trust that Harry had invested in the people around him? Was he using it to keep him away from Louis?

 

Liam stared at him as the thoughts flicked into his mind, one after the other, his brain urging his body to move. Harry deserved better. He deserved so much more. More than a handful of rings and a wardrobe full of pretty suits. More than creepy touches and power control. He deserved paralyzing orgasms and so much love he didn’t know what to do with it all.

 

He maybe had it and he didn’t even know.

 

“How long has he been over there?” Louis asked his friend.

 

“I’m—I’m not sure,” Liam frowned, avoiding Louis gaze. _A lie._ “Told him to stay away from that lot,” he added with a resigned sigh.

 

“I’m guessing he’s been over there a while, then. I’ll catch you later, Liam,” Louis downed his drink and made towards the other side of the room, Liam’s voice calling his name fading away as he walked.

 

 

//

 

Harry was giggly as he hooked both arms around Louis' neck to hang off him by his side and his booted feet struggled to find a rhythm to walk. 

 

Actually getting Harry to leave the launch party had been a challenge in itself. Whatever invisible hold Ben had over Harry, it was strong enough to have Harry wanting to stay.

 

Louis hadn’t _exactly_ felt comfortable making a scene in front of Ben and his industry friends so he waited until Harry broke free of the group to use the bathroom and he'd intercepted him on the way out.

 

"So hot, Lou...you look so good," Harry grinned as he tried to coordinate his feet. "Want you to fuck me hard.”

 

Louis tightened his arm around him and sternly told his dick to ignore that invitation. Harry nosed into his jaw.

 

“Want to get a few boys and girls to mess around with..." He mumbled.

 

Louis sighed.

 

"Did you take pink powder again?" He wondered.

 

Harry rubbed himself against Louis' side. 

 

"Like 'em all. Boys 'n' girls."

 

Louis tried to guide him up his own path.

 

"I'm sure you do," Louis murmured.  "Let's get you inside the house, huh..."

 

Harry sputtered out some laughter as Louis let him in with Harry's key; Harry twirling along the hall.

 

"Come fuck me, Lou," he called as he veered towards the stairs, stumbling a bit with a pout. "Fuck, who put that there?" He beseeched.

 

Louis walked over to help him up; supporting his lax body to the bedroom where Harry flopped onto his back;  fingers sliding over the fly of his trousers in a slow drag.

 

"Mmm...make me feel it, Lou," he begged throatily.

 

Louis took a fortifying breath and came closer; gently stopping the lazy action of Harry's long fingers unlocking his belt.  Harry blinked dilated eyes at him.

 

"Want it all," he said. "Want to be inside someone while you're inside me."

 

"I don't know what you've taken, Princess, but you're not getting any tonight," he promised. "You're not coherent enough to give that kind of consent..."

 

Harry flashed him a devilish smile; long tongue curling over his teeth seductively.

 

"I know _exactly_ what I'm doing," he promised; reaching for Louis' hand to draw him closer onto the bed. 

 

Louis shook his head and stepped away; twisting to fetch the silk gown which was laid on the trunk at the end of the bed.

 

Harry had most of his clothes off by the time he turned to help him into it.

 

"Louis," he bit his lip; hand quickening over his already rigid dick; curled lashes fluttering as he drew in a gasped breath. "Mmm..."

 

Louis moved across the room and knelt on the bed to cover him up but Harry's eyes lit up in delight.

 

"He's coming to play! Oh my, be gentle," he winked as he settled his feet on the bed to push his hips up; forcing his dick though his fisted hand. "O-oh..."

 

Louis wanted to fuck him the way he'd asked- _hard_. He wanted to spread him open and twist his fingers roughly inside him but tonight wasn't about his desire, it was about Harry's safety so he stepped back from the bed reluctantly. 

 

"Want to watch me, Lou? You like it don't you? Like me like this..."

 

Louis should be able to deny it but Harry looked wrecked already; soft hair flopping messily on the covers and his hand grasping urgently at his shaft.

 

It was wrong to want it when Harry was evidently using something but his self pleasure was safer than letting him go and indulge in the orgy he seemed to crave.

 

Maybe if Harry was safe it was better to _let him._

 

"Alright, I’ll watch you, " Louis managed to husk out; scanning the room for a chair. He settled it beside the bed. “Want you to go slower,” he added once his conscience stopped screaming at him.

 

Harry looked over at him, lips parted and tongue lathing the swollen flesh suggestively. He tempered his hand; eyes squeezing shut with an uncontrolled noise pulled from his throat.

 

"Like this?" Harry asked; chest flushed and breathing ragged.

 

"Tighter," Louis murmured, watching Harry grip himself a little harder; stroking over himself even more slowly than before. 

 

"Fuck," Harry whispered, head thrown back as his hips surged once more.

 

Louis sucked in a breath; his own dick throbbing between his thighs but he couldn't abate that need. He shouldn't  be indulging Harry this way but it was a powerless feeling wanting to give him everything he ever wanted.

 

"Too fast," Louis reminded gently as Harry got a bit excited and began to speed up; little 'ah!'s gasped into the still air surrounding them.

 

"Want you, Lou," Harry slid him a dark look. "Feel so good inside me..."

 

"Finish what you started, Princess," Louis begged.  "Show me."

 

Harry grinned and twisted his hand as he slid it down to the base of his dick, thumbing over the tip as he stroked upwards.  Louis was mesmerised; half anguished by what he was letting himself see. Harry’s tummy muscles flexed delicately as his hips lifted off the bed; Louis settled right there beside him to see.

 

"Voyeuristic, I like it," Harry mumbled. "Do I look pretty?"

 

His smile preceded another moan; deeper this time and a pleasured kind of pain.

 

“So pretty,” Louis promised. “Want to touch yourself?”

 

Harry’s gaze landed in him, dark and intense. The hand he had grasped the sheet with lifted, sliding into his tummy and smoothing upwards.

 

Louis made sure to track the movement, eyes flicking to Harry’s lips.

 

“Like this?” Harry asked, fingertips finding the bare expanse of his chest, tracing his collarbones carefully.

 

“Whatever _you_ want,” Louis encouraged.

 

The pads of his fingers trailed lower, digging in to the hard peak of his nipple slightly, causing a reactive vibration in Harry’s throat.

 

“Yeah, Lou,” he murmured among his pleasure, eyes squeezing shut.

 

His gasped ‘oh's' had Louis shifting in his seat, wrist pressing down against his reaction to watching Harry build himself up towards his peak.

 

“Want to look pretty for you,” Harry whispered, eyes opening with a lazy waver of his lashes.

 

“Think you can come?” Louis asked.

 

Harry swallowed and nodded, his dimples shadowed in his cheek. They both knew he could. Easily. But still, the suggestion of it and the pretence that it was _Louis_ in control of it all was addicting. It was arousing as fuck.

 

"Going to show me then?" Louis swallowed.

 

“Can I go faster?” Harry blinked, biting his lip as if he shouldn’t have asked.

 

“Show me,” Louis replied, the painfully hard press of his arousal surging against his slacks as he watched Harry gasp out more short, sharp noises before his body went rigid; toes curling into the sheet as his body bowed; jerking as the first stream of sticky, wet seed splashed onto his torso.

 

"Jesus...Jesus, _fuck_!” Harry muttered; reaching behind himself with his free hand to anchor against the bedstead.

 

Louis watched the way his bicep rounded with his grip; his hard arm showcasing his muscles; the smooth skin on the underside of his arm and the furry patch of hair in his arm-pit.

 

His body sagged as his seed dribbled out, the pinnacle of his pleasure reached and his youthful energy spent.

 

If Harry hadn't taken something Louis would be tempted to fuck him like that; relaxed and sleepy and a little bit high.

 

He slipped into en-suite bathroom to fetch a flannel; cleaning Harry up carefully before manoeuvring his pleasure-sated body into the silk robe.

 

“Did I look good, Lou? Did you like it?” Harry tried to tug him onto the bed but Louis pressed a kiss to his cheek and backed away again.

 

“You always look beautiful, Harry,” he murmured. “Go to sleep, Princess.”

 

Harry smiled to himself, satisfied and smug, his lashes pressing into his flushed cheeks.

 

Louis turned to slip out, turning to check Harry had fallen asleep before he shut the door behind him.

 


	15. Chapter 15

"You stayed."

 

Louis looked over his shoulder to find Harry trailing into the kitchen; his body bare except for boxers and his silk gown; his hair damp from the shower he'd evidently taken. 

 

"Wanted to make sure you got up ok," Louis murmured. 

 

Harry nodded.

 

"Thank you. For last night and... _you know_ ," he swallowed. 

 

Louis looked at him, then eyed his cold coffee. He’d made it out of creating something to do while he waited; rather than actually wanting to drink it.

 

“You were pretty wild last night,” Louis ventured, frowning.

 

Harry paused in the middle of pouring his own coffee.

 

“That was a tame night, believe me.”

 

Louis narrowed his lashes as he watched Harry make his drink.

 

“You don’t look sorry,” Louis observed.

 

“Why would I be sorry?” Harry asked, flinging open the fridge to avoid looking at Louis.

 

"You spent the whole night with Ben, Harry. We went there together and you just let him drug you and you pranced around like you were with _him."_

 

Harry frowned, brows furrowing.

 

"Thought you said you'd let it go," he accused, leaning back against the counter.

 

Louis scoffed, shaking his head.

 

"I can let go what happens behind closed doors, Harry but not _that._ Not when it's me you're supposed to be dating!"

 

“You and I had pictures taken together,” Harry frowned. “Outside, remember?”

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Louis arched a brow. “Pictures that will promote your show quite nicely, Harry. Pictures that affirm the suggestion that we're together but _inside_ where people _know_ you, you chose to stand by _Ben’s_ side with _Ben’s_ arm around you instead of mine!”

 

"He needed me to say hi to a few industry people," Harry defended. "So what if I took a little pick me up?"

 

“You’ll never give him up will you?" Louis realised with alarming clarity. "Ben will always come first…”

 

His heart felt like a rickety old pump; barely able to keep with the demand of his blood; rushing anxiously around his veins.

 

Harry looked at him wide-eyed, body tense as though Louis was launching a physical attack. It might be a side effect of the drugs but Louis wasn’t willing to accept his behaviour no matter what excuse he had for it. If Harry wasn’t even feeling remotely regretful about hurting him then why was Louis trying so hard to understand the complexity of the dynamics with Ben? Louis stared at him, willing him; begging him to say sorry and pull him against his body to crush his fears until there was no room left for insecurity.

 

_Tell me something I don’t already know._

Harry straightened his back, shifting his shoulders as he lifted his chin.

 

"It's—It's what Directors do, Louis. You don’t understand the way it works. I just wanted a bit of fun,” He shrugged coolly and in that moment Louis knew he was lost all over again. The boy on the curb with no way home. “What's so wrong with that?"

 

"What’s wrong with it is that you seem to think I'm meant to just watch you fuck other people...Because that’s what you told me you wanted to do, Harry." Louis bit out. "Am I not enough for you?"

 

"That's not- I didn't say that..." Harry lamented. "You liked watching me," he tried again, desperately.

 

“You told me you wanted to fuck girls and boys, Harry. You told me you wanted an orgy. I thought we were getting somewhere! I thought that—" He paused, blue eyes broken as they lifted to meet green.

 

_I thought that you were starting to love me back._

 

"I didn’t mean it,” Harry dismissed with a frown. “You liked seeing me like that," he repeated, with a pleading look. “I just took the stuff to get through the night, you know I dabble,” he accused. “You can’t expect me to just stop everything because we're— you _know_...”

 

Louis stared at him.

 

“No, Harry I don’t know. I _thought_ I knew up until last night when I figured that _finally_ I get to take you out to an industry party and get to hold your hand and stand by your side as your _boyfriend,_ ” he emphasised. “But the minute you took off with Ben, I kind of lost track of what we are because it seemed to me you wanted to be by _his_ side more than you wanted to be by _mine_...” Louis glared at him with a grimace.

 

"Lou, please,” Harry appealed.

 

“You’re not even sorry,” Louis added, bemused. “How would _you_ feel Harry? What if Marco was there and I’d swanned off with him for the whole evening and then come home telling you how much I wanted to fuck other people?”

 

Harry ducked his gaze, swallowing hard.

 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

 

“ _How would you feel?!_ ” Louis yelled, startling him.

 

“Please, Louis,” he looked up, biting his lip, speaking to Louis with his sad eyes.

 

“Please, what?” Louis wondered.

 

“Stay,” Harry whispered, pushing off the counter with shaky hands.

 

Louis shook his head with a bitter smile.

 

"No thanks," he declined raspily, jumping off his stool.  "See you around, Harry."

 

He walked out of the house; ignoring Harry's voice calling him back.

 

//

 

 

"Louis, the show's starting!" Niall called out.

 

"I told you...I don't want to see it!" Louis yelled from his bedroom.

 

"Harry looks sad!" Niall relayed. "Lou, you need to come see..."

 

Louis snorted.

 

"I thought you didn't like him?"

 

"That was before," Niall defended. "I've got know him now and...well, we're friends."

 

"He wants to fuck everyone he meets," Louis accused. "He doesn't even want to be with me."

 

Louis decided he may as well strip the bed while he was in his room to vent some of his anger. He reached across to drag his duvet off the bed.

 

"They're looking for guest cooks again!" Niall added excitedly.

 

"I'm not fucking going, Niall," Louis ripped off his sheet and trampled on the duvet cover to peel it off where he couldn't reach properly.

 

He barrelled out of his room to dump the bedding by the washing machine; glancing at the TV screen briefly.

 

Harry looked-- _fuck_. He looked _broken_. He had on a white suit with a floral chintz design and a cream silk shirt with a pussy bow but his eyes were devoid of their usual sparkle. They were shadowed heavily; green orbs haunted. 

 

Louis squeezed his eyes shut to block it out.

 

"He looks sad, Lou," Niall repeated softly.

 

Louis shook his head and went to charge back into his room but Niall stood up to intercept him, cupping his arms.

 

"He could be sleeping with the whole of England but he was only sleeping with _you_ ," he murmured.  "I think that makes you pretty special."

 

Louis tried to twist free; tears coming to his eyes.

 

"He refused to tell Ben to stop," Louis muttered.  "He'll always mean more to him than I do."

 

"Lou, he needs you," Niall begged.  "Don't you get it? He's just a piece of ass to Ben...the guy is just using his position to get a free feel."

 

Louis stared at Niall; eyes flicking back to the screen where the camera zoomed in on Harry's angelic face.

 

If the guy filming had any idea of Harry's turmoil then he wouldn't have focused so close. Louis could make out the nervous tremors in Harry's graceful hands; his little finger curling up as he sank his other digits into his fringe in his usual habit of dragging his hair back.

 

_Fuck._

 

Harry wasn’t wearing his rings. He wasn’t wearing a single one of the gaudy, shiny bands that _Ben_ had given him.

 

Louis refused to acknowledge the sharp pain in his chest that felt a lot like longing. He refused to accept that there was anything left to salvage.

 

He wasn't going back there. He _wasn't_.

 

//

 

"Harry?"

 

Louis froze, one foot in the road and the other on the curb. He'd checked for traffic before crossing, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, the hood pulled up to cover his wild hair and near-full beard.

 

He’d spent half the night in the workshop on the same item Harry had seen in pieces on his first visit; the rocking chair that Louis was finding unusually difficult to perfect.

 

By ten o'clock in the morning he was hungry and craving coffee with nothing in the house thanks to his reluctance to leave the safety of those walls.

 

Maybe that was why. A sense that Harry could be right around the corner. Not that he’d have any reason to be lurking in a neighbourhood like Louis'. But that _was_ his wool-coated back scurrying across the very road Louis was stepping into.

 

“Oh,” Harry turned slightly. “Hi.”

 

He looked stiff and awkward and very, very pale.

 

Louis pulled himself back so that both his feet rested up on the curb. He rocked back on his heels slightly.

 

“What are you doing down here?” Louis asked.

 

Harry shuffled his boots- a pretty metallic silver-pink. Louis traced the delicate slender shape of his legs, encased in jeans under his long jacket. His chin was tucked into a warm looking burgundy chenille scarf.

 

“I um...I...”

 

Harry bit his lip, face creasing.  He looked so incredibly sad. Louis heard the distant vibration of a car motor and stepped into the road.

 

“Come and stand over here,” Louis gestured, frowning when Harry stood stock still in the middle of the road. “There’s cars you know,” he chided gently, grasping Harry’s elbow to try and coax him from harm's way.

 

Harry stared at him. He hadn’t _exactly_ expected to _see_ Louis despite that being his ultimate intention before he’d lost courage and turned away.

 

He definitely didn't deserve to be treated with the type of kindness Louis was affording him. But that wasn’t a first either. Louis had pulled him from the gutter after all.

 

He tried to get his legs to work, body heavy and aching as he carefully stepped up onto the pavement a few seconds before a car barrelled past them both.

 

“Nobody stops for you in London,” Louis rubbed his arm a bit, apparently sensing Harry’s mental break down.

 

Because Harry was a monumental idiot who allowed Louis to leave under the impression that he wasn't Harry's _only_ and that was such an indescribably laughable lie. Louis _was_ his only. He always had been.

 

And here was Louis- probably hurt and angry and feeling _betrayed_ by Harry- pulling him out of the road again, despite everything that had happened. And fuck it if seeing him again didn’t blast it home to him exactly _how_ monumental his mistake was. He’d let Louis _go_. Let him believe he wasn’t wanted, that he wasn’t the most important person in the world...Let him believe he wasn’t _loved._

 

Harry felt tears flood his eyes as he tried to catch his breath against the searing pain in his chest.

 

"Hey..." Louis frowned as he huddled closer, gentle hands gliding onto his forearms. "What’s going on? What is it?"

 

Harry shook his head and sniffled; dipping his chin to hide his face. How was he meant to tell him? How was he supposed to find words that depicted _exactly_ how fucked up he was?

 

How could anything he actually said aloud have any bearing on what he’d _done_? His words couldn’t take back his actions. Louis had no obligation to listen, to even stand there and wait for him to catch his breath, really. And yet he _was._ He was _waiting._ Louis was always waiting for him and it was so fucking unfair that Harry made him do that.

 

He had no idea how to fix it, how to make it stop, the pain that kept him up at night and plagued him during the day.

 

"I'm so sorry, Lou," he beseeched. "I fucked _everything_ up..."

 

Louis let his eyes settle over him; the way his hair was scrunched into curls thickly on one side of his head and how his eyes were lined with black eye liner that trickled down his cheeks with his tears, pooling at his lips shaded deep purple. 

 

He looked like a beautiful vamp.  Beautiful enough to take his breath away but he was still so, so broken. Louis watched him lick his swollen lips; nostrils flaring as he sniffed again, Louis waiting for him to speak.

 

"Y-you don’t understand. Everybody leaves. I’m- I’m not used to you know—people _wanting_ things. Wanting to _be_ with me. Properly,” he hiccupped. “Nobody's ever hung around for this long before," Harry told him in a wobbly voice.

 

"Long enough to be your boyfriend, you mean?" Louis wondered, brushing his thumbs over the fabric of Harry's coat jacket sleeves while Harry sucked in breaths of air.

 

"Long enough to _know_ me," Harry looked at him; make up-stained tears trickling down his cheeks. “Long enough to see the _real_ me. I told you,” he added, voice strained. “I told you that I’m bad...I'm a bad person, Louis!” He beseeched.

 

Louis licked his lips, hitching a breath. He wanted to wipe the tracks of his tears away, wanted to stop pretending at all. Harry had hurt him but it didn’t change the way his heart ached for him; the way his _arms_ ached for him just to be wrapped up in them, close to his body, protected and safe.

 

Seeing him the street like that had come as a shock. He didn’t expect to feel like forgiving him. But his heart beat erratically in wanting to, anyway.

 

And maybe courage was the only way forward. Maybe truth could be the winner after all. Louis had been hurt; but what kind of hurt had Harry felt that caused him to sabotage what they had? What caused him to feel that he didn’t deserve something more?

 

Maybe Harry _didn’t_ deserve another chance but now that he was standing there right in front of him, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t _feel._ He couldn’t pretend Harry didn’t matter.

 

"Has-“ Louis sucked in a breath as Harry jolted, slowly wiping away his tears on the edge of his jacket sleeve while Louis grasped his arms. “Has anyone stayed around long enough to _love_ you?" He posed.

 

"Wh-what?" Harry's lips fell apart in shock; eyes darting to his.

 

His eyeshadow was smudged, his mascara melted but he looked so pretty, still. Delicate and fragile somehow. So far from the flirty, cocky chef people saw on their TV screen every week.

 

There was no use hiding anymore. No point in pretending. Louis bit his lip and took in another breath through his nose.

 

"I love you," he admitted, eyes narrowing slightly as he lifted a hand to brush his fingers into his thick curls; an urge he’d been fighting since finding him in the middle of the road.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Harry managed on a tear-ravaged voice; leaning down to scoop Louis into a hard hug. He broke down into heavy, heartfelt sobs, crushing Louis hard against his front. "I love you too!" he promised breathlessly. "Lou, I--"

 

"Shh," Louis slid his hand onto the back of his neck where his hair was thick and unruly.  "I know, it’s okay."

 

Harry squeezed him a bit tighter with a displeased noise in his throat.

 

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered.

 

"No?" Louis quirked a brow. "No orgies for Mr. Styles?"

 

Harry pulled away to capture his gaze; shaking his head.

 

"Just want _you_ ," he promised.

 

Louis nodded, shifting to step away. Harry tightened his arms, a furrow forming above his brow.

 

“I’m sorry. For saying that...for letting you think—”

 

Louis cupped his cheek, letting out a breath he didn’t realise between holding.

 

“You said sorry already, love.”

 

“I should never have let you walk away,” Harry tilted his face into Louis' palm. “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have done, actually...”

 

Louis bit his lip; leaning in to tilt his head enough to kiss him; warm lips sucking at Harry's trembling lower one.

 

“I think we've both said and done things we regret,” Louis whispered.

 

Harry frowned a bit and engulfed Louis in his arms as he shifted to kiss him back with a concentrated furrow to his brow.

 

When they parted, Louis blushed when Harry thumbed away the lipstick now transferred to Louis' lips from his own.

 

"That colour suits you,” Harry smiled softly, eyes still reflecting his hesitancy over Louis' forgiveness.

 

“So,” Louis stepped back slightly to take a fresh breath. “Where were you headed?”

 

Harry smirked.

 

“Oh, just this place near here. The guy makes beautiful things out of wood...”

 

“Only I was just about to fetch breakfast and coffee...” Louis explained with a quirk of his brows.

 

“Would you let me buy you breakfast?” Harry asked earnestly, hope burning in his eyes.

 

“Only if we can take it back to mine so I can shave and brush my hair,” Louis lamented with an eye roll.

 

Harry grinned, one big hand stroking over his hoodie-covered head.

 

“I like it. This caveman look,” he murmured.

 

Louis felt the faint stirring of a familiar, old attraction in his gut. It wasn’t as strong or as instant as it used to be but maybe they could work on getting that back.

 

He awkwardly shifted to start the walk towards the coffee shop, unconsciously unpocketing his hand to reach behind him as he went to cross the road. It wasn’t until Harry’s hand was safely clasped in his that he realised what he had done.

 

He glanced up to gauge Harry’s reaction; finding a soft smile on his lipstick-smeared lips that kindled a warmth in his chest that he had missed; one that spoke of _knowing_ Harry was safe and happy. One that spoke of _love_.

 

He blushed and ducked his head, pretending he hadn’t noticed Harry’s sweet smile.

 

//

 

“Ready, Princess?”

 

Louis knocked on the open door of Harry’s dressing room, a knowing smile on his lips. He’d reneged on his own silent promise not to go back on the show. Which was probably tempting fate since Ben was a big part of the reason why he’d walked out on Harry and Louis wasn’t sure _just_ how much he could handle as far as Harry’s relationship with the man went.

 

They hadn’t exactly broached the topic yet, still rebuilding their own relationship slowly with coffee meet-ups and lazy movie-nights at home.

 

Harry twisted away from the vanity table; his grey pinstripe suit fitting him like a glove. The trousers had a high waistband and the jacket was cropped; double breasted with wide white lapels and large buttons.

 

His lips parted as he realised it was _Louis_ leaning in the doorway. Darcy had been in and out of his room with updates while Harry nervously awaited his arrival. He wouldn’t blame Louis for deciding not to come considering the bad memories the studio must hold for him.

 

“You came,” he murmured and it was soft and too much like the morning he’d looked surprised that Louis had _stayed._

Louis smiled and stepped inside the room, twisting his palms together with a little anxious bounce.

 

“Yeah....is that okay? Should I have stayed away?”

 

Harry frowned and crossed the room, searing a kiss onto Louis' mouth that left no doubt as to whether he should be there.

 

“If I had it my way you’d be here, always,” Harry promised him, rubbing his lips together as his eyes dipped to Louis' mouth. “Pink looks good on you, too, by the way...”

 

Louis wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as Harry stepped away to fetch tissues, a glimmering pale pink trailed over his skin.

 

“Can’t you get that stuff that doesn’t smudge?” Louis remarked.

 

“Oh?” Harry lifted a brow. “You've been researching make up?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ve seen the adverts,” he mused.

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry’s eyes glimmered like the gloss as he returned with the tissues for Louis.

 

Louis smirked at that. He’d seen an entire thread on Twitter made up of photographs depicting the times they’d been caught with glimpses of Harry’s make up smudged on them both. It felt _good_ somehow. It felt like Louis had a little claim to him amongst everything else.

 

“Good point,” he agreed, tossing the tissues away and sliding an arm around Harry's waist to tug him against his body firmly, pressing an owning kiss to his mouth which soon digressed into a hotter, tonguing union.

 

Louis merely smiled when Harry blinked open hazy, languid eyes.

 

“Think you need a fresh coat of gloss.”

 

“Lynne's going to kill me," Harry murmured, looking the last thing from bothered.

 

//

 

"And how is this delicious slice of pie coming along?" Harry's warm, deep voice enquired in honeyed tones.

 

The theme for the cook-off was pumpkin. Halloween was just around the corner and Harry had chosen to make a creamy, spicy soup with his. 

 

Louis carefully took his pumpkin pie out of the oven with mitted hands; laying the tray on the counter.

 

"That looks good too, Lou," Harry added with a smug smile.

 

Louis chuckled with a shake of his head. He let his bright eyes travel over Harry's suited body ; lingering on the shape of his muscled thighs and the bulge cupped in the front of his pinstiped trousers. He wasn't wearing his red apron because he'd loaned it to Louis again; the blue version still missing.

 

Harry arched an interested brow.

 

"We have some audience questions for you once we've tried each other's creations," Harry turned back to his own kitchen to serve his soup.

 

"What else could you possibly want to know?!" Louis laughed. 

 

Harry carried a tray over with two soup bowls and a side plate of soda bread.

 

Harry broke the bread open with his nimble fingers, holding a clump out toward Louis.

 

"Want a dip, Lou?" Harry invited with a twist of his lush, painted lips.

 

Louis flicked his gaze over Harry's body; lips tugging slightly on one edge.

 

"Don't mind if I do," he acquiesced.

 

"Be careful it's hot," Harry warned. "We _both_ like it that way if I recall," he muttered under his breath.

 

Louis slid him a predatory grin, letting his gaze dip to Harry's behind which looked perfectly peachy in his tight, tight trousers.

 

"Mmm," Harry teased, shimmying his hips. He turned lips away from camera to murmur, “Want you to fuck me in this suit,” into Louis’ ear.

 

Louis stilled, fingers barely able to grasp his bread. Harry prompted Louis to take his bowl to try the liquid. Louis quickly fell back into sync, shifting his eyes from Harrys lips and into the audience to give his aroused mind a break.

 

It had been too long since they’d last been together in _that_ way and it felt like they were both too scared to make the first move. Something about the studio had clearly bolstered Harry’s confidence and Louis couldn’t deny the heat of their passion quickly flamed into life in his belly.

 

"This is incredible, Harry," Louis murmured, savouring the taste.

 

"Let's try the pie," Harry leaned across to cut it into slices, laying a portion for himself and Louis onto two small plates.

 

Louis nearly choked as Harry curled his tongue out of his mouth to receive the sweet treat; a sight which had Louis hardening embarrassingly quickly.

 

Harry met his gaze as he chomped; lashes dipping over his eyes in a languid blink.

 

"Very good, Lou," Harry commended. "The audience don't know what they're missing..."

 

Louis pressed his hands together and bowed.

 

"You can make this for my annual Halloween dinner party," he added.

 

Louis slid him a bemused look.

 

"Didn't know you had one."

 

"Jay's welcome too," he assured. "And whoever else might like to come from your gigantic family..."

 

"My sisters will be watching at home," he warned. "Don't give them ideas!"

 

Harry kept his gaze; fingertips tangling into his curls to pet them slightly.  _Bare fingers,_ Louis reminded himself.

 

"It’s safe for children, I promise..."

 

Louis paused to stare at him for a moment, nodding almost imperceptibly. 

 

"Okay count me in."

 

"Alright then... shall we move to the seating area?" Harry invited; Louis guiding him there with a hand on his back.

 

//

 

“How does it feel to be back?” Maude from the audience asked once Louis was settled on the sofa, angled slightly away from Harry in his host seat.

 

“It feels good, yeah,” Louis nodded. “Didn’t think I'd get another invite to be honest...”

 

“You’re always welcome, Lou,” Harry purred, reaching over to curl his fingers around his knee.

 

Louis watched him for a moment, a soft smile curving his lips.

 

“The question they should be asking, Harry, is how did you cope without me? Must have been pretty boring without my flamboyant style...”

 

“I’ve been lost without you,” Harry smirked, pointing to the next audience member to avoid Louis' reaction to his words.

 

“Hi, what's your name and what's your question?”

 

“I’m Petra and my question is: have you been on any more dates since the last time we saw Louis on the show?”

 

Harry’s face sprung into amused surprise, his lips pursing and lashes narrowing suspiciously.

 

“I don’t know what you mean...next question!” Harry prompted.

 

“Louis, will you be taking up Harry’s invite to his Halloween party?” Stephanie from London asked.

 

“I’m sensing a theme,” Harry murmured with deep dimples appearing when he grinned.

 

Louis glanced over at Harry.

 

“Can’t say no to that can I?” He asked, and it wasn’t clear if he meant the party or Harry himself.

 

He’d already proved he couldn’t say no to Harry several times but the audience didn’t need to know about that.

 

“How _are_ your family, Lou?” Harry asked while the show runner ran across the studio to reach the next questioner.

 

Harry already knew the answer, had asked it one night curled up against Louis’ side while they watched _Benny and Joon_.

 

“They’re good. Mum’s dying to feed you up with her roast,” he vouched.

 

Jay had held Louis when he’d broken down in tears about his fight with Harry. She’d reserved judgement and she’d told him that Harry would apologise when he was ready. She had been right, after all. Finding Harry near his house had made him wonder how many times he had tried to knock on his door before losing courage and walking away.

 

It made him wonder if Harry would have kept trying until he succeeded. The shaky, frightened man he’d pulled to safety wasn’t a vision he wanted to be greeted with again. Watching Harry now, bright eyed and shining like a star made Louis realise just how much Harry had suffered, too. And it wasn’t easy, getting the trust back but they were trying and that’s what mattered the most.

 

He snapped himself back into the present, Harry’s eyes flicking over him carefully.

 

“You ok, Lou?”

 

Louis nodded, pushing a smile onto his lips.

 

“Any more questions?” He checked.

 

“Dani from Liverpool wanted to know if you’re buying me a new ring,” Harry lifted a brow with a smirk pulling at his lips.

 

Louis glanced into the audience to see a pretty young woman waving back. He'd completely zoned out and missed the question.

 

Louis smiled slowly, a warmth spreading across his cheeks.

 

“I’d probably say no, seeing as you don’t like wearing them,” he mused.

 

“I might make an exception for a certain _type_ of ring,” Harry murmured suggestively, splaying his fingers and rubbing his thumb over his wedding ring finger.

 

The crowd erupted into shrieks and laughter, Louis smiling at him bemusedly.

 

 _Is he still looking for ratings?_ the insecure part of his brain asked.

 

“Alright, I think we’ve had _quite_ enough audience questions for one evening,” Harry wrapped up. “You’re all very naughty,” he accused softly as he smiled warmly into the crowd.

 

At the mention of _naughty,_ Louis’ mind was dragged back to Harry telling him he wanted Louis to fuck him. In his sinfully fitted suit.

 

He looked across the gap between them to lock gazes but his vision was blocked by another body standing in the way; Ben’s outline instantly recognisable.

 

_What was he doing there? He never went on set normally._

Louis didn’t know the answer but he felt a familiar gnawing start in his stomach.


	16. Chapter 16

"H, can I have a quick word?" Ben hooked a hand around Harry's arm to guide him away from the sofas.

 

Harry refused to go backstage and leaned against his kitchen counter.

 

"I know we told you to ramp it up a notch but you're being way too obvious," Ben murmured.

 

Harry lifted a brow, sucking in a courageous breath.

 

"Maybe I want to be obvious. Louis means a lot to me...I want people to know that.”

 

Ben gave him a dark look.

 

"Baby, I thought that you and I had an understanding..."

 

"We can't keep doing this," Harry told Ben plainly, mustering up the courage to finish his words . "It has to stop."

 

"You know what the network said?" Ben posed. "They said that _Hot Buns_ should have a female presenter to split your screen time with. The likes of Nigella Lawson have made cooking sexy and we both know how hard I had to work to get you this job," he warned. 

 

Harry felt the anger flood his chest; felt the shame of his past decisions fill him with bitter regret. The feeling was followed by a calm wash of blue as he glanced over to check on Louis. He was being doted on by Lynne, shooting curious looks towards where Harry was standing with Ben.

 

Ben was the reason they’d fought. He was the reason Louis felt that Harry didn't truly love him and Harry knew it was his own fault for letting it happen. But he had the power now. He had Louis in his corner and if that meant losing his job then he was willing to take the risk. Louis forgiving him was an impossible ask and yet he _was_. Harry owed him that much at least.

 

He smiled sweetly at Ben, no longer afraid.

 

“Channel Five offered me a good deal last week. Maybe we can get together on Monday to discuss my exit," he posed as he gently drew himself out of Ben's hold.

 

“What?” Ben snapped his gaze up. “But—Baby, I-"

 

“I’m not your Baby,” Harry stated. “I belong to Louis now.”

 

He pushed himself off the counter and strode towards the sofa where Louis was now standing talking with Liam.

 

He didn't pause to take Louis into his arms in front of Liam; angling his head to plant a firm and longing kiss on his mouth. The remaining audience members applauded them loudly and  Harry pulled away with a dimpled smile.

 

"What was that for?" Louis breathed, clasping his biceps weakly to steady himself. 

 

Harry shrugged, expression sobering as he thumbed his jaw.

 

"I just told Ben that I’m yours," Harry promised, staring into his eyes. "I told him that all that other stuff has to stop."

 

Louis tried to suck in air. His worst fear had been having to watch Harry choose Ben over him, all over again. Harry had taken the initiative to talk and to work things out but Louis _knew_ in that moment that he was serious.

 

Louis nodded, licking his lips. He darted his eyes up.

 

“What about being my boyfriend?” He dared to ask.

 

"Think I’ve been yours for a while, Lou. But I want to tell the whole world if you’ll let me. No more hiding," Harry smiled, cupping his neck to kiss him again; sweeter this time. He slowed his lips and flicked his tongue into Louis’ mouth with a hum of satisfaction; with a feeling of coming home.

 

Louis weakened to his persuasion and kissed him back regardless of their audience.

 

//

 

Harry stood in front of his antique standing mirror and adjusted the pussy bow on the bright pink shirt that he wore under the exquisitely fitted, black broquade suit.

 

It was the _perfect_ Halloween costume and his dark purple lip stain and matching glitter eyeshadow seemed to just _fit_. He batted his darkened, thick lashes and took a deep breath. He was nervous about the party. Louis was due to arrive any second with his sisters and Jay and Harry felt like he still had to prove himself to the people who loved Louis most.

 

The rest of his guests had been instructed to arrive an hour later, his house decorated to replicate a spooky mansion which each year his guests delighted in looking around. His cellar had to be his favourite, ghostly audio echoing around the cold walls where he kept his wine collection.

 

A knock sounded on the robust front door, jolting him into action. He rushed to the bed to perch on the edge, zipping up his high healed black boots and descending the stairs delicately in them.

 

There was nobody outside when he opened the door. He sighed, assuming trick-or-treaters had prank-knocked but a rumbling kind of noise brought him onto the wooden decking. Rolling back and forth in the hazy night breeze was the most beautiful rocking chair Harry had ever seen. His lips fell open as he wedged the door with the mat and ventured out to get a closer look.

 

His fingers ran over the perfectly sculpted arms, over the smooth arched back, thumb grazing the ornate carvings in the wood. Flowers. So very pretty and yet traditional,  somehow. The seat looked shaped and something clicked in his memory; of _Louis_ showing him a seat for a chair just like this.

 

“Fuck,” he sat down with a heavy realisation.

 

Louis had made the chair. For _him_.

 

No sooner had he sat than a chorus of young voices called out,

 

“Surprise!”

 

He leapt up, twisting to find a group of mostly girls surging forth from the hidden side of the house, all screaming and dressed up in costumes.

 

“Ahh!” He threw his hands up in feigned fear. “Who are you? What do you want?”

 

“We want sweets, mister,” one girl dressed as Alice in Wonderland poked him in the tummy.

 

“We're with _Louis_ ,” another- A cat- answered.

 

Harry couldn’t help his grin.

 

“Hiiiii!” He opened his arms and knelt to get a group hug. “You all look so scary!”

 

A dry chuckle sounded out, Louis stepping out of the shadows with Jay behind him.

 

“We’re not scary, love,” Louis smirked, impeccably dressed in a snug black suit, a turtleneck underneath the tight jacket and his hair sculpted into a sleek,  high quiff. He was clean shaven and Harry couldn’t get his legs to work to get up.

 

“Clear out, you lot,” Louis moved forward to gather his sisters away from Harry. “Why don’t you nose around inside for a bit?”

 

Jay waved and said a soft “Hi" to Harry before taking the kids inside. Louis helped Harry to his feet, wrrapping his arms around his waist tightly as his blue eyes sparkled in appreciation.

 

“Nice suit, Princess...”

 

Harry swallowed, lips pulling up in one corner.

 

“Same to you, Tiny.”

 

Louis smiled bemusedly.

 

“Wasn’t sure if you’d expect a costume.”

 

Harry leaned in to kiss him, one hand settling quickly on Louis' behind as he pulled him close. 

 

“All I need is you.” He looked into Louis' eyes as he said it.

 

“Yuk,” came an unimpressed voice from beside them.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

“Harry meet my sister, Lottie,” he introduced, stepping back.

 

Harry’s hand shifted from his ass to his waist.

 

“Hi,” Harry waved with a cute smile. “Lovely to meet you.”

 

Lottie flicked her eyes between the men.

 

“I can show you how to set your lip colour so that it doesn’t rub off when you kiss, if you like?” She said and Louis gasped, mortified while Harry giggled in amusement.

 

“I’d love you to,” he assured, moving forward when she offered her hand for him to take.

 

He looked over his shoulder and winked at Louis as Lottie led him away.

 

//

 

“I feel sick,” Harry complained, hand rubbing over his belly as he laid on his side on the couch,  head cushioned on Louis' thighs.

 

“You ate four slices of pie, love,” Louis rubbed his arm consolingly. “After green jelly and black ice cream,” he added. “Not sure that was a wise move...”

 

“Don’t!” Harry squeezed his eyes shut and writhed. “Don’t remind me...”

 

Louis watched Harry hug himself tightly, shivering without his broquade jacket. He'd seen Fizzie wearing it over her spectacular, glittery-webbed black dress.

 

“Why don’t I take you up to bed?” He murmured. “I’ll see the girls out and bring you some water.”

 

Harry huffed, twisting a bit in discomfort.

 

“I might have caught cold apple bobbing on the back lawn in the dark,” he conceded.

 

“I tried to give you a jacket but you were adamant it would restrict your range of movement,” Louis sighed.

 

“Lou...I don’t feel so good.”

 

Louis shifted, glancing around the room to find his Mum. She was chatting to the twins Phoebe and Daisy while Fizzie and Lottie danced to the faded music.

 

“Mum, I’m taking Harry up, he’s not feeling too well.”

 

Jay glanced behind Louis to see Harry curled up on the couch.

 

“Is he okay?  Does he need a doctor?”

 

Louis smiled gently.

 

“Think it’s just too much sugar,” he assured. “But is it okay if I say goodnight and leave you to take the kids home?”

 

“Of course,” Jay stood up to usher the girls into the kitchen while she arranged for a cab to collect them.

 

“Thanks,” Louis hugged her, and then his sisters one by one before carefully helping Harry to roll off the couch.

 

At the top of the stairs Harry stiffened and slapped a hand over his mouth, stumbling into his master bedroom to burst into the en-suite, retching into the toilet basin before his stomach emptied out in gushing splashes. Louis fetched a warm dressing gown and knelt with him, wiping away the tears as they gathered on his cheeks from the force of chucking up.

 

“Think I’m gonna hurl,” Harry told him in a whisper, dryly.

 

Louis rubbed his back over the gown.

 

“Think you already did, love.”

 

Harry caught his breath, vision sparkling and body suddenly feeling weak.

 

“I’m so sorry, Lou.”

 

“Shh, it’s alright,” Louis promised, cuddling him a bit.

 

“But—your mum,” he frowned. “And the girls...they’re going to think-"

 

Louis smiled, getting up to fill a toothbrush glass with water and bringing it back, flushing the toilet on the way.

 

“They're going to think this is the best Halloween, ever,” he assured.

 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” Harry pouted, rubbing his tummy.

 

“Still sore?” Louis frowned, worriedly.

 

 Harry passed him the glass and gripped the edge of the toilet to be sick again, shivering hard as the sweat dripping from his skin cooled too quickly.

 

“I’m disgusting,” Harry pushed Louis gently away when he tried to cuddle him again.

 

“You’re sick, Harry. Sometimes _I’ll_ be sick and you'll cuddle _me_.”

 

“No I won’t,” Harry pouted but Louis knew he was teasing.

 

“And you don’t need to say goodbye,” Louis continued. “Because you’ll see the girls again so it’s not goodbye it’s--"

 

“See you later,” Harry finished for him softly.

 

“Exactly,” Louis rubbed his arm. “Can you manage a warm shower?”

 

Harry nodded, moving slowly while Louis set the water running, putting a towel on the heated towel rack and walking through to get the bed ready.

 

“Here we go,” he carried in fleece pyjamas as Harry awkwardly tried to dry himself with the big towel.

 

Louis took over, efficiently rubbing over his skin to warm him up, Harry’s eyes staying on him the whole time. He brushed his teeth when he felt like his stomach was settled enough and when he curled up in the bed with Louis, tiny cold tremors still laced through him. Louis wrapped him in his arms and held him tight.

 

“Do you want me to call someone?” Louis asked.

 

Harry shook his head and burrowed closer.

 

“Do you feel any better, love?”

 

Harry hummed, tucking himself in small.

 

“Thank you for my chair,” he mumbled. “I’m going to put it in the kitchen by the slow burner.”

 

“Glad you like it, H,” Louis kissed the top of the head.

 

“I love it. And _you_. Happy Halloween,  Louis.”

 

Louis smiled,  fingers digging into his hair.

 

“Happy Halloween, Princess. I love you, too.”


End file.
